Breaking the Barrier
by Midnight Angel414
Summary: Amber Devons could pose to be the toughest challenge Sherlock has ever faced. She will test his intelligence, his skills, his patience, and his emotions. She offers him a chance at love if only he would let her in, but what happens when the ghosts of her past come back to haunt her? Can he save her and the future she offers? Sherlock/OC. M for later chapters.
1. Prologue

_Hello there friendly readers, both old and new! If you are reading this for the first time you are in luck. This is technically a rewrite of what I had originally posted, which was in need of some work. So continue reading, no need to listen to my ramblings. For those of you who have read the original chapter I would like your opinion. Did you like the original or rewrite better? Not much has really changed, until you get to the end. So let me know what you think!_

_Oh and to see what Amber looks like just got to my profile there is a link near the bottom of the page!_

_Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognize, especially Sherlock himself (if I did he would be a nothing but a sheet more often). BBC owns the amazing show and I thank them for it! I do however own Amber and the plot for this story. _

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**Breaking the Barrier**

**[000]**

_October 20th_

Amber Devons stood in front of 221B Baker Street staring hard at the door for a second. Her eyes darted down to look at the slip of paper she had originally written the address on, which was slowly becoming saturated due to the light rain falling. A slight wave of fear washed over her as she began to nervously bite at her bottom lip. She caught herself in the action, realizing she was being silly. Fear was an emotion she understood, an emotion she lived with, and an emotion that was completely out of place at the moment.

She took a few deep breaths leaving the fear and nervousness behind. It wasn't as if she hadn't looked at flats before. She was a grown adult, not a child. Moving was a natural activity that every person went through at some point in their life, some more often than most. There was nothing to be nervous about while attempting to find a new place and there certainly was nothing to fear.

With her confidence now back in place, she raised her fist to knock three times on the heavy door. She waited patiently with her hands in the pockets of her peacoat while her right foot tapped lightly on the damp concrete of the sidewalk. When the door wasn't answered after several minutes she repeated her actions, hoping that she hadn't inadvertently written down the wrong address.

Just as she was about to turn away and head back down the street the door opened revealing an older woman with a surprised smile on her face. "Hello there," the woman spoke kindly opening the door wider. "Can I help you?"

"Hello," Amber said with her own smile gracing her face. "I'm Amberlyn Devons. I phoned not to long ago about the flat," she flicked her gaze to the paper she pulled for her coat pocket. "221C Baker Street. I hope I'm in the proper place."

The woman's smile spread. "Right. Come in out of the damp. It wouldn't do to have you catch a cold," the woman said her voice just as sweet, and almost eager, as it had been when she had answered the door.

"I'm Mrs. Hudson, the landlady, I spoke with you earlier. I wasn't sure if you were coming today so I do apologize for the state of the flat. I've had workers in and out all week fixing it up. It's so hard to rent basement flats, something about the damp just puts people off."

Amber gave a small laugh. "When I first moved away from home I rented a lovely little flat, in a basement no less. I wouldn't have traded it for the world. I'm sure this one will be just the same Mrs. Hudson."

"You are sweet Miss Devons." They walked from the entry way down a small narrow hall to a door labeled 221C.

"Please call me Amber," the younger woman said as she moved out of the way so that the door could be opened allowing entrance to the short staircase that would lead to the flat below.

Amber noted that as they descended the temperature did drop, but only slightly, and hardly enough to actually be noticed. "You've had the place completely remodeled then?" she asked as the door to the flat was opened revealing a surprisingly bright and cozy living space.

"Not completely, no," Mrs. Hudson said standing back as the younger woman walked slowly around the average sized room. "It wasn't much really. Resurfacing of the floors, a new coat of paint and fresh wallpaper on one wall. It matches some of the wallpaper in the rest of the flats. The appliances in the kitchen were new to begin with, the cabinets have been refinished as have the counters. The tile wasn't bad so it stayed. The bathroom, sadly, had to be completely redone. It was in such a sorry state that I couldn't allow it to be left as it had been."

Amber ran her hand over the shining dark cherry oak finish of the fireplace mantel as she barely listened to the woman speaking. She hadn't had a fireplace, not since she was a child that was. It made her smile. She was a sucker for a fireplace and that alone made her want to rent the flat.

"The mantle had to be replaced as well. It's not the original. The fireplace is fully functional and with the winter coming it will come in handy to ward off the cold." Mrs. Hudson continued as Amber walked down the hall running her hand along the light gray-blue paint as she headed in the direction of the kitchen.

She marveled at the kitchen before she made her way to the bathroom, which to her surprise had a bath, sink, and toilet within. In her last flat the toilet had been in a separate room from the bath. Next came the bedroom, which of course had a door leading to the bathroom and then one to the hall. The bedroom was a good size, not to big nor to small. The walls were the same colour as the walls of the hall without any hint of wallpaper.

"This place is lovely." She headed back out to the living area with Mrs. Hudson following behind. "It's not to small nor to big for a one bedroom. It appears to be quiet enough and not damp at all, kind of cozy actually."

"I am so glad you think so. Will you be wanting to rent it or do you think you'll need a couple of days to think it over?" There was a slight amount of relief in the old woman's voice.

Amber gave a quick shake of her head. "I won't need a couple of days, I'll take it. My old place is getting a little too expensive for the area and I feel I need a change. This place is lovely and just the right price." She smiled. "One thing, you don't mind pets do you?"

Mrs. Hudson gave a slightly hesitant smile. "What kind of pets are you referring to?"

The younger woman chuckled lightly. "Nothing exotic I assure you. I own a small rabbit and a three year old cat named Nix. She is spayed and doesn't have a clawing probably, just a fascination with eating house plants."

"I suppose they would be alright. To be truthful I've never had a tenant that has had pets." The older woman said as they left the flat.

Amber chuckled lightly. "I've always had pets, usually something small nothing large or dangerous. Small is certainly better in a city like London."

"True," Mrs. Hudson smiled opening the door for Amber. "Would you like a cup of tea while you sign the lease? Coffee maybe?"

"Tea would be fine," Amber said slipping off her shoes out of respect for the woman's home as she entered. "Out of curiosity, it is Mister Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson that live in the flat above this one, correct?"

Mrs. Hudson nodded as she poured two cups of tea from an already hot pot. "Yes, that isn't a problem is it? He can be a bit odd at times and noisy but he's a good man. I've sure you've read about him in the papers and of course John's blog."

"Oh I've heard my fair share of stories along side the blog and papers. It's really not a problem, him living upstairs that is. I was hoping to speak with him actually." Her smile was strained now as she took the offered cup with a smile, adding two sugars and a splash of milk.

Mrs. Hudson gave a soft smile. "So it wasn't just the flat that brought you here today, it was the hopes of talking to Sherlock?"

She shook her head. "No, the flat was my first priority. Really it was. Talking with Mr. Holmes was second. Is he around?"

"Sadly no. He and John are out of town on a case. They left not more than an hour before you called. I don't expect to see them home for a couple of days, if not a full week. I can give you his number if it's an emergency." Mrs. Hudson offered kindly as she set a small stack of papers in front of Amber.

"I believe the matter can wait a little while longer." She took a sip of her tea flipping through the pages, signing where needed. "When would it be convenient for me to move in?"

"Today if you wish. The work is done in the flat so it's ready whenever you are."

Amber's smile was radiant now, brighter than the sun. "Perfect. Thank you again for showing me the flat and letting me rent it. I mean it when I say I am thankful and that it is lovely."

Mrs. Hudson showed her to the front door leading out onto the street. "You are very welcome dear and I thank you for renting it. I'll see you soon."

Amber gave a wave before approaching the street. She hailed a taxi, giving the address of her friend's house. For the first time in weeks she felt truly happy. She was moving on to a new stage in her life and finding a flat that fit her perfectly was just the perfect way to start.

00000

_October 27th_

It had been a week since Amber had moved into the flat and the move had been seamless. From a large three bedroom flat in Sussex to a cozy one bedroom in London wasn't an easy move, but Amber hadn't had trouble making the shift. Mrs. Hudson had been the reason for that. She was more hands on than any of Amber's other landlords had been, a little annoying at times but the young woman had grown to enjoy the odd moments when the older woman decided to pop in and help out even while claiming she wasn't a house keeper.

So when Amber returned from her morning run she was not surprised to see Mrs. Hudson coming up from the basement flat. "Good morning Mrs. Hudson," she said pulling her headphones from her ears before wiping sweat off her face.

"Good morning dear. I was just about to call you. I wasn't sure if you had gone to work or just for a run."

"Just went for a run, I have the day off." She walked farther into the building noticing a small brown package sitting at the entrance of the hall leading to her door. "There's a package."

"That's why I was knocking at your door. It appears to be for you. John and Sherlock found it this morning when they returned." The older woman picked up the package handing it to Amber with a smile.

"The boys are home then?" She received a nod. "I'm assuming Mr. Holmes has already left, otherwise he would have tried to investigate the package to figure out more about me." She chuckled tucking the box under her arm.

The woman laughed. "He ran out of here just as soon as he arrived."

"Thank him for not invading my privacy when you see him." She walked towards her door, pulling her key out of the sports bra she wore while Mrs. Hudson was heading upstairs.

"Oh, why don't you come meet John. I mentioned you a couple of times when I talked to him on the phone and he really wants to meet you."

Amber gave a slightly embarrassed chuckle before shaking her head lightly. The look on Mrs. Hudson's face said she had ideas of trying to fix her up. She knew that look, her friends often had that look when trying to fix her up with some random guy. "I'm just back from a run. I'm not fit to meet anyone right now."

"Well go have shower and come upstairs. We'll have a cuppa and talk."

"Give me twenty minutes," she rolled her eyes leaving the woman to enter her flat. She sat the box on the coffee table, leaving it for later.

Twenty minutes later she had taken a shower, fed the cat and rabbit, and was walking around her flat in her usual attire for her days off: an off-shoulder yoga shirt and leggings. She settled on her couch using a towel to get the moisture out of her hair as she stared intently at the box on the table.

She didn't know where it had come from or even who had left it. If the boys upstairs had found it sitting at the front door when they arrived that meant that no one had signed for it, therefore anything could haven been in it. She didn't remember ordering anything online and her friends would have let her know if they were leaving something for her. Her birthday was half a year off and Christmas was still two months away. There was no reason she could possibly think of for a package to be left for her.

With a cautious eye she looked closer at the box. Her name and address were sprawled on top in bold marker but there was no postage. It hadn't gone through the post. It was neatly packaged with care, meaning someone had taken the time to make it look perfect. Despite seeing all that she couldn't figure out what the hell was in the damned box. It was really starting to annoy her. They only way to find out was to open it.

Fishing a box cutter out of a drawer of the side table, she sliced down the tape at the center of the top of the box. She opened it carefully, instincts telling her that the box could contain a number of dangerous things. She peeked in and what she found surprised her. Several pictures of herself from the last week and an old gold watch. At first she was confused until she got to the note at the bottom.

_You can't hide from me and no one can help._

Gasping she shoved the box away from her sending it crashing to the ground, the pictures scattering and the watch skittering under the chair across from her. She got to her feet rushing out the door slamming it behind her. "Mrs. Hudson!" she screamed, eyes wide and her heart pound rapidly in her chest.

Meeting her halfway down the stairs was Mrs. Hudson and a blond man, who she was assuming was John Watson. "Amber, what's the matter?"

"Do you know who dropped off that package?" She tried to sound less panicked than she was but her question still came out rushed and fearful.

Mrs. Hudson shook her head, "I told you, John and Sherlock found it outside."

"John right?" she asked turning to the man in question on the stairs. He just nodded. "Did you happen to see who dropped it off?"

"It was just sitting there when Sherlock and I got out of the cab. It read a name and the address. Sorry." His smile was apologetic.

"Was there something upsetting inside the package? You look like you've seen a ghost," Mrs. Hudson took one of Amber's hands showing the younger woman she was indeed shaking ever so slightly.

She shook her head. "No, not really. Just some things that brought up some memories I wasn't expecting. I think a friend might have left it." She forced a smile as she removed her hand from the woman's. "How about that tea I was offered. I could use a cup."

"Sure. Amber was it?" John asked with a smile in her direction seeing right through the lie. He had been working with Sherlock long enough to know when someone was trying to hide something. He wouldn't push the matter but he knew once his friend got a hold of her he would push until he got an answer he wanted.

She gave a nod of confirmation. "Pleasure to meet you." She gave one last glance towards the front door before they headed upstairs. She couldn't shake the feeling that things were going to take a turn for the worst very soon. Her past was coming back and not in the good way.

**Comments? Questions? Concerns? Review!**


	2. Chapter 1

_Hello again. Here is the rewritten chapter two (really the first chapter, the last was a prologue). Again to those new to this story, you can continue on with your reading, ignoring this message if you wish! To my readers who are rereading this this chapter has been greatly changed. I did not intend that to happen but it did. I apologize and sincerely hope it works better than the original draft. I personally like this rewrite better. So let me know what you think...and please tell me if anyone is OOC or if anything is wrong. I love feedback but please don't be mean! If you must criticize do so in a helpful, not hurtful, way!_

_See what Amber looks like through the link on my profile!_

_Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognize, especially Sherlock himself (if I did he would be a nothing but a sheet more often). BBC owns the amazing show and I thank them for it! I do however own Amber and the plot for this story. _

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**Breaking the Barrier**

**[001]**

Amber sat on the couch with her feet tucked underneath her, her cup of tea held lightly warming her hands. John sat in a chair across from her and Mrs. Hudson had left five minutes ago. "Mrs. Hudson mentioned that you wanted to speak with Sherlock," John prompted after having already talked with her for a while. Talking had calmed her down to the point where her eyes weren't as wide with fear nor was she as shaky. It seemed to him that her reaction to whatever had happened was purely a physical reaction, something she had no control over. He'd seen this happen to Sherlock only once so he knew it was better to not point anything out or ask the wrong questions.

She rolled her eyes. "I had said something to effect of wishing to speak with him but that was a week ago. The matter has cleared itself up, for the most part."

John noted the lie but once again didn't say anything about it. It was better for her to believe what she wanted to believe if it kept her happy and calm for the time being. "That's good." He nodded. "Are you enjoying living on Baker Street? How is the flat?"

"The flat is wonderful and a hell of a lot less work compared to my old place. Three bedrooms was more room than I really needed but when I first moved in I had flatmates." She shrugged. "They all moved on and I decided it was time I did too. I was tired of Sussex anyways and I've always loved London. Baker Street is within distance of everything I could need." Her smile was soft, a little hesitant but at least it wasn't forced.

The front door of the building was slammed open only to be slammed shut just as fast. Amber jumped in her spot sloshing tea over the rim of her cup onto her leg and a little on the couch. "I am so sorry," she said rushing towards the kitchen with her cup as she went in search of paper towels and fresh tea. John tried to tell her it was no big deal and that he could clean up the mess of the couch. She refused on the grounds of already being up to wipe the tea on her pant leg.

"John!" The man in question rolled his eyes heavily hearing his friend's voice as well as the long stride of Sherlock taking the stairs two at a time. "Is there anything on the website? I need a new case." The tall man announced as he entered the flat pulling off his scarf and throwing his coat onto the now empty couch.

"We just finished a case Sherlock. Take a break."

"That was yesterday. I need at case now." Sherlock said rushing to John's laptop on the desk.

"Sherlock, we have a guest," John said pointing towards the kitchen where Amber now stood awkwardly looking in to the living room, paper towels in one hand, tea in the other.

With a critical eye Sherlock looked the woman over. She was five six and a half, barefoot he noted. She was slender with wide set hips. Her eyes were vibrant green, her hair a mess of copper waves cut to the top of her shoulders. Her skin was pale, naturally he assumed, but currently chalk white as if she had been scared recently. The cup in her hand shook ever so slightly, barely noticeable to anyone but himself. Her eyes also hid something. He was almost certain it was fear but he couldn't be positive.

"You're Amberlyn Devons, the new tenant of 221C," he said watching her eyes widen with surprise before catching herself.

"I prefer Amber," she stood there looking around before landing back on Sherlock. He was what she had expected. She had seen photographs after all, but none of them really did him justice. He was tall, taller than she was. His hair was dark, curly and a tad bit messy, again something she expected, but his eyes were a shockingly icy blue. Those eyes seemed to bore into her, as if reading her soul, sending a shock straight through her body. She hadn't expected such a gut-wrenching reaction to his gaze. She tried to pay it no mind.

"I came to that conclusion because there are no female shoes in this room. Unless you you have a habit of walking the London streets barefoot, you live downstairs. Simple really," he went back to looking at the computer before realizing the name he had just said. He looked back at her sharply. "You have a case," it was more of a statement rather than a question.

She shook her head as she walked back to the couch, mopping up the mess she had made before Sherlock had abruptly entered the flat. "What?"

"Remember Mrs. Hudson told us you wanted to speak with Sherlock," John said from his spot in his chair.

"Oh yes, sorry I forgot." She smiled at John and looked back to Sherlock. "Actually Mr. Holmes,"

"Sherlock, please."

"Okay, Sherlock," her stomach fluttered on it's own accord. Once again she ignored the feeling. "No I don't have a case. The matter I wanted to speak with you about has cleared up." She took her seat, careful to avoid sitting on the damp spot, and took a sip of her tea.

"Are you sure about that?" She flinched slightly, giving him the only answer he needed.

"Yes, I'm quite sure. Why?" Her voice was calm and level, a betrayal to what her eyes were screaming.

"Sherlock, please not today," John pleaded with his friend.

Sherlock ignored him. "You're as pale as ice and your hand hasn't stopped shaking since I first saw you. You've had a recent scare but you aren't willing to talk about it."

Amber rose a brow at him. "I wouldn't say it was a scare, more of a shock I wasn't expecting and it is none of your business. No offense but what happens to me does not concern you."

"My flat is located in the same building as yours. If you are bringing trouble along with you I assure you it is my business, John's as well."

"Sherlock!" John was surprised by the statement and a bit concerned about what Sherlock might have been referring to. There was no reason for either of them to believe that Amber was anything but harmless. She didn't look like a criminal or an overly troubled person but Sherlock might have seen something he hadn't.

Amber laughed before changing subjects, "I've read your website and heard all the stories, so tell me Sherlock, what can you read from me."

"Please don't taunt him Amber. He's being an irritating prick on purpose to get a rise out of you," John said turning a scolding gaze on his friend, who of course paid the look no mind. "Behave Sherlock."

Sherlock gave a smirk, his hands flush against one another in front of his mouth. "She asked John and I must oblige."

"It's alright John. I did ask so I don't mind." Amber said comforting the blond man and, in a way, herself knowing that he was going to read some things about her that she might not want aired at this very moment. _Then again he could get everything wrong, _she thought,_ but that isn't likely._

"You're Scottish, but have been living in England for most of your life. You're in your mid to late twenties, leaning more towards twenty seven or twenty eight. You seem to be intelligent and very observant. There is a chemical stain on the bottom edge of your shirt, most likely a combination of hydroquinone and ammonium thiosulfate. Both are common chemicals for developing black and white film so you are a photographer dealing with both film and digital. Though photography is a waste of your intelligence if you ask me." She snorted lightly but he continued on.

"You wear glasses but are ashamed of it. You used to be a smoker but have quit in the last six months. Judging by the wedding band on the chain around your neck and the lack of a tan line on your finger, I'd say you have been divorced for several years now but still care dearly for your ex or you wouldn't still have the ring. You have been pregnant once in your life going by the width of your hips but either miscarried or had a still birth. You've lost your mother and father, which is the reason you live in England instead of Scotland. You have a gray cat, judging by the fur on your pants." She looked down at her calves to notice that she did have traces of cat fur on her leggings. She brushed it off waiting from him to continue.

"You have bruises under your eyes so you haven't slept much in, oh say, the last three days. You are quite scared, very much so, and worry for your safety which is why when you first moved into 221C you asked Mrs. Hudson to speak with me. Something happened this morning that has you more scared than you have been in a while but you won't say anything. So tell me, am I wrong?" He finished noticing that as he had mentioned a husband and child she nearly succumbed to tears, but she hadn't cried nor even looked away from him. _She is strong,_ he surprised himself by thinking. He never noticed personality traits like that, let alone pointed them out in his mind.

"See Sherlock, this is why I said don't." John muttered, angry with his friend for having upset the woman on the couch.

Amber shook her head. "No, it's alright. I did ask." She subtly wiped at the edges of her eyes, a move that was noticed by both men but wasn't commented on.

"You don't seem shocked. Everyone acts shocked the first time I tell them their life story, or part of it that is. Why not you?" Sherlock asked, completely confused by her reaction to his analysis. He couldn't have possibly been wrong. He was never wrong, well almost never.

"I told you, I've heard the stories. You can't surprise me." She stated simply with a smile that said she knew something he didn't. _I was not wrong, _he told himself once again. He could not be wrong and if he was he would be utterly surprised.

He nodded in acceptance of her excuse. "Did I get anything wrong? I always get one thing wrong."

Amber had a lazy smile on her face as she began to open her mouth to speak but just as she did a phone began to ring. They all looked at one another for a split second. She pulled her mobile out of her shirt much to the shock of John and the pleasant surprise of Sherlock. The fact that a woman could hide small objects in a bra without them being detected was an amazing concept and one at the moment he was having fun pondering.

"Excuse me I need to take this call," Amber said getting up and leaving the flat with an apologetic smile. She answered the call by simply stating her last name. Sherlock and John shared a confused look for a moment.

"Why do you feel the need to show off?" John spoke first, a hint of disappointment and anger coating his voice.

"It's what I do. If I didn't show off we wouldn't have cases to work. Speaking of which since Ms. Devons hasn't offered up anything interesting, is there anything on the website yet?" Sherlock's fingers began to tap lightly on the desk, a hint that he was beginning to become bored.

John gave an annoyed laugh. "You are sitting right in front of the computer. Why don't you look."

Amber entered back into the flat just as Sherlock began to do as John suggested. He paid her no mind but John did. She looked annoyed yet pleased at the same time. "I'm sorry but I have to go. I just got called into work on my day off no less. Would you mind terribly if I come back later this evening. I'll bring food. Chinese takeaway okay?"

"Fine," Sherlock said shooing her off quite rudely as he stared at the screen in front of him. He looked just as annoyed as Amber sounded and she doubted he had even heard her speak.

John rolled his eyes again and ushered her outside the door where they could talk a little more freely without having to hear Sherlock tell them to shut up as he read any and all messages left on the blog. "Sorry about him. When he gets bored he becomes a bit of a prick."

"I had a younger cousin like that. Took a good kick from his mum but he finally stopped."

"Trust me, hitting Sherlock will not help in anyway." When she laughed he smiled. "So takeaway sounds fine, about eight would be good for us. We'll order and then talk about whatever you need help with." When she scoffed he sighed. "You would not be offering to come back here after work if Sherlock wasn't right Amber. If you had merely gotten a shock from whatever was in that package you wouldn't still be chalk white. You don't have to prompt us with a case but it might be a good idea to just talk it out. We can help."

She shook her head. "He wants a case, not a woman who needs someone to talk to."

"Well if he won't listen I will," his smile was soft.

_Oh dear lord, time to cut this off before he gets any ideas, _she thought to herself. "John, you're sweet and cute but,"

It was John's turn to look wide eyed. "You thought—no I didn't mean it like—"

She chuckled with embarrassed relief. "I didn't mean to fluster you. I just, I don't have much experience with men."

"But you were married," he eyed her with confusion.

Her laugh died and her eyes dimmed slightly. "Yes, but that was a while ago, a life time ago really."

"You don't have to explain, just go to work. Sherlock and I will see you tonight."

"Thanks John. I'll see you later. Get my number from Mrs. Hudson. If you two need to cancel for tonight let me know. Have a good day," she waved as she dashed down the stairs to her own flat where she proceeded to get ready for work.

John walked back into his own flat, a little more confused about the redhead that lived in the basement but none the less impressed with her. She seemed to throw the consulting detective for a loop, considering John had noticed an uncertain look on the man's face when rattling off things about Amber. He wouldn't deny she was pretty, because she was, but he had seen the look on her face upon laying eyes on Sherlock. She had all but stopped breathing. There had also been a look in Sherlock's eyes, something curious but something a little more primal. John doubted that even Sherlock himself had realized how he had looked, nor registered it for the matter. His friend had also taken an interest in the woman instead of just showing her the door when she didn't offer a case. That said a lot for a man who was hunting for a new case to keep his mind occupied.

It took a second but a reason for Sherlock's more mellow behavior dawned on John just as he was about to head back into the flat. "Sherlock, where are they," he demanded storming back in.

"Where are what?" Sherlock inquired turning to look at the shorter man then around the room. "Where did she go?"

"Who?" John asked beginning to tear apart the flat, looking any place a pack of cigarettes could be hidden without him noticing in the last half an hour. That didn't leave many places but he was dealing with Sherlock after all.

"Ms. Devons," when John's brows furrowed Sherlock sighed. "Amber. Where did Amber go? She was just here."

"She had to go to work. Now where are they?" He tossed the Union Jack pillow off the couch stuffing his hands down the back and sides of the cushions.

Sherlock stood now, "Where are what John? What are you looking for?"

"I know where you went this morning. You reek of smoke."

"I happened to pass by a group of smoking University students." Sherlock lied through his teeth. While it might have sounded like the truth, John knew the man better than that.

"Sherlock," John leveled his gaze on the man. "Where the bloody hell are they?"

"Front pocket of my coat," he admitted watching his blond friend search the coat finding the packet missing two cigarettes. "You do realize that I smoked when I was supposedly dead, right?"

"I am aware but you have been doing so good these past two months. You don't need these." John tucked them into his own pocket to dispose of later on when Sherlock wasn't around.

They both heard the click of a door opening and closing downstairs. "Mrs. Hudson! If I'm not back by four please check on Nix! I'm off to work!"

"Alright. Have a good day!" John and Sherlock heard Mrs. Hudson answer Amber before she left for the day.

"Did she happen to tell you what she does for a living?" Sherlock seemed quite curious. _What could a woman who was clearly into photography do that called for her to leave in such a rush? _He asked himself and every answer he came up with just didn't match up with what he had seen.

John shook his head. "Didn't even mention it. You said something about her being a photographer. Maybe she was late to a wedding or party where she was hired to work."

"No she would have needed more then fifteen minutes to get ready for a job like that," he said offhandedly. "Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock called stalking out of the flat.

It only took John a matter of moments to figure out what was going on. "Sherlock, no. We are not breaking into her flat." He ran to follow Sherlock down the stairs to catch him before he could do anything rash.

"I'm not breaking in. I'm going to kindly ask Mrs. Hudson for the key."

"You can't just invade Amber's flat. It's against the law." John was trying to reason with Sherlock now though there was nothing that could deter the man. "Mrs. Hudson won't give you the key." Sherlock continued on without answering. "You are not going to steal the key." Still not response. John cut in front of Sherlock before he could knock on their landlady's door. "No. I can't let you invade her privacy like this."

"You've just met her, why do you care?"

John just shook his head in disbelief. "She's a human being with rights and we are not going to trample over them."

"You like her," Sherlock sneered. He had never been fond of relationships and had always disliked when John began dating someone. It always led to awkward moments.

"And so do you. You wouldn't be trying to get a key to get into her flat if you didn't." John shot back watching a flash of confusion darted across Sherlock's face.

"She's hiding something." He did not deny nor acknowledge what John has said and tried to polity shove the shorter man out of the way.

The argument continued on for another ten minutes as they stood outside of Mrs. Hudson's door until finally the door opened revealing the older woman. She didn't appear happy. "Would you two kindly take the argument upstairs," she ordered. "I will not give you Amber's spare key and if you break in I will allow that girl to do whatever it is she wishes to do to you and your flat." With that the door was shut in their stunned faces before a round of laughter overtook them.

"That was odd," Sherlock announced as they backed out of the hallway. Despite the threat made by Mrs. Hudson he still rattled the door handle of 221C but managed to resist the urge to actually pick the lock. While he might have been curious about Amber Devons he didn't want to upset Mrs. Hudson. He was fond of her.

"She must really like Amber. I'm not surprised really. After living with us for the last few years I'm sure she's happy to have another woman around." John rambled on mostly to himself since Sherlock wasn't paying much attention to anything being said as they went back up to their flat.

A half hour, and several dozen annoying inquires about cases, later, Sherlock's phone rang. The conversation lasted a total of fifteen seconds ending with Sherlock grinning and saying, "Text me the address. We'll be there." He put on his scarf followed by his coat.

"Where are we going?" John tailed behind.

"Lestrade is out of his depth." They were already halfway down the stairs.

"As always?" The door slammed behind them.

"As always," Sherlock smiled as he hailed a cab once out on the street.

"What is it this time?" A cab pulled up the curb as John spoke.

"A murder. What else would it be?" They both got into the cab where Sherlock gave an address which he read from his phone while John just kind of sat there thinking to himself. _At least he isn't bored. _The cab took off as they fell into silence.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Review!**


	3. Chapter 2

_Please to my readers who are on my alert list for this story go and skim back over the first chapter. Not much changed in that one except near the end. As for the second chapter, well despite my best effort that changed completely and for the better I think. To my new readers, just continue on as usual. _

_Well here is chapter three. I really hope it came out well. I do apologize for any OOC characters and any grammar/spelling errors. I reread the chapter at least three times to correct as much as I could but I am only human. I'll go over it again tomorrow to see if I missed anything major. If you reviews, please don't be mean! This is my first Sherlock story and my first fanfiction in over three years! I'm kinda out of practice._

_Disclaimer: __I do not own anything you recognize, especially Sherlock himself (if I did he would be a nothing but a sheet more often). BBC owns the amazing show and I thank them for it! I do however own Amber and the plot for this story._

___Enjoy! _

* * *

**Breaking the Barrier**

**[002]**

Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade stood in the dank alleyway staring down at the dead body on the ground wondering how anyone could do something so horrible to another human being. This was not the first time that the particular thought had floated through his mind and he doubted that it would be the last. In his line of work he often saw things that no one should have to see. This victim was no different, the circumstances and events however were.

This man, who's identity had yet to be figured out, was the third victim in the last month to be found in that alley under the exact same circumstances. Everything was the same as the prior two murders, right down to the nearly surgical stab wounds. Twenty of them, in total, on each body. Each wound would have meant death on their own but whoever had committed these heinous crimes had either gone overboard or they were attempting to make the death as quick as possible with as little fight as necessary.

The first of the victims had been found exactly four weeks ago. The second victim followed a week later. At first Lestrade, as well as everyone else working the cases, had assumed it was a coincidence except for the new forensic photographer. She claimed that nothing with such similar circumstances could ever be just a coincidence, especially when the papers hadn't gotten their hands on the particulars of the two cases. So Lestrade had waited, the feeling in his gut telling him that another body would show up. When two weeks had passed with no word of another similar murder he began to think that it had really been only an unhappy coincidence. That was until he got the call that morning. Another body had been found, the same types of wounds in the same godforsaken alley.

Throughout the whole process of waiting for another victim, Lestrade had been on the hunt for whoever had committed the first two crimes. There was little evidence to help point him in the right direction and he kept coming up to a dead end. He doubted this case would be any different, so he had done the only thing he could think of.

He had called in the only person who could help. He was now beginning to regret that decision. Sherlock Holmes was not an easy man to work with. He was a know-it-all, arrogant sod with one of the most brilliant minds Lestrade had had the privilege of encountering. While for the most part, Lestrade liked Sherlock, more often than not he wanted to punch him in the face. Today was one of those days.

Since arriving at the crime scene Sherlock had only asked who had found the man, had the body been touched, and if the identification of the man had been found. He hadn't even bothered to ask what had killed the man. That was so obvious that even a monkey could have figured it out. Now Sherlock was looking over the body, most likely noting things that Lestrade himself hadn't been able to notice.

Everyone was staying out of his way. They knew his way of working and knew if they got in his way they would be called stupid or told to leave, possibly both. While it might have been odd to know that not more than a couple of months ago, this man was thought to have been dead, everyone had fallen back into the usual routine they took when Sherlock was around. So even John stood back beside the DI as to not get in the way while everyone else treaded lightly as they went about their work.

While there was movement all around the alley and the street behind them, the sound of pounding footsteps had both John and Lestrade turning to see who the new comer was. It was a surprise for John and a relief for Lestrade.

Amber was jogging towards them from the mouth of the alley. She wasn't dressed in the suits that the rest of the forensic team wore, but instead was in jeans, a tee shirt, and her coat. Her shoes weren't even covered.

"Well there aren't any batteries in the van thanks to Anderson. I searched everywhere they could be," she said catching her breath. "Stupid Anderson."

"I'm standing right here you know!" Anderson snapped from behind her.

"Anyways," she ignored the man behind her. "I am nearly a hundred percent sure I have gotten all the photos we need. I'd still call in Micheals though with my camera being dead." Micheals was the other photographer who was usually assigned to Lestrade's cases but over the past few weeks it had been Amber. That didn't look like it was going to change any time soon.

Lestrade sighed. "He's sick, that's why I called you. Are you positive you have photographed everything?"

Amber gave a sharp nod. "I had nearly five hundred photos on the memory card before the thing died. I'm sure that should be enough, though there isn't much evidence to begin with. You really should let me bring my own personal camera, the charge holds better than the battery powered ones." She added offhandedly as she looked over her shoulder towards the body which was no longer being inspected by Sherlock. He had moved on to look at everything in the general area.

"Hello John," she finally acknowledged the fact that he was there.

"Uh, hello." His brows drew together as he tried to figure out why she was even there.

She gave a light laugh knowing what he was about to ask. "I'm a forensic photographer John. I take pictures of crime scenes for a living."

Several moments later Sherlock came ambling over to stand near John. He had gathered all the information he could from the scene and the sudden appearance of Amber had caught his attention. "What are you doing here Miss Devons?" He asked, having not heard the conversation seconds ago.

Lestrade answered for her. "She is Scotland Yard's newest forensic photographer and my second pair of eyes."

"Second pair of eyes?" John questioned lightly noticing the tick in Sherlock's cheek.

"I'm hyper-observant," she said with a shrug of her shoulder.

"More than that really. She has been able to spot relevant things that the rest of my men didn't. She's been a big help over the last two months since we hired her." Lestrade explained while Amber blushed slightly.

"What did you find at this scene?" Sherlock prompted, his face as indifferent as ever.

"The bin over there has been pushed back. It could mean nothing but the scrap on the ground where it's been moved is rather new. It wasn't there the last time a body was found here. The fire escape has been used recently, rust is missing around the springs and there is fresh dirt on the rungs. The dirt is also on the lid of the bin, so either a homeless person was trying to get on the roof or the murderer decided to use that as an escape route." Her voice was strong and she was sure that he had noticed the same things upon his investigation of the alley.

After a moment of thought Sherlock spoke, "I was wrong then."

Amber cocked her head to the side. "How do you mean?"

"That your intelligence is wasted on photography."

She wasn't sure whether to be offended or flattered at that statement. "Thanks, I think. I have always loved photography and I've had an interest in forensics my whole life. I found a career that uses both my passions. Simple really." She quoted Sherlock's final words after stating what he figured out about her life that morning the in the flat.

He stared hard at her. "What else did I get wrong?" She didn't look much different from their meeting that morning. Her attire had changed obviously but that was not what he noticed. Her skin color looked better, the fear of whatever was plaguing her was less apparent, and she looked more confident and sure of herself. She was also wearing glasses, which throw one of his deductions right out the window.

Her smile was coy and slightly cocky, "Oh not much." While Sherlock stood there in stunned silence and John tried to hold back a laugh, she turned to Lestrade who wasn't afraid at all to laugh. "Since it is supposed to be my day off I'm going to head to the lab now and upload these. I'll email them too you and have a hard copy printed of the important ones. Then I'm going home."

"If anything else comes up?" the DI prompted.

Amber sighed pinching the bridge of her nose. "If anything _important _comes up then call me. Otherwise I'd rather have a glass of wine and watch a good movie. Good day Lestrade." She began to head out of the alley.

Sherlock, sensing that if he didn't act now he was never going to get a proper answer out of her, began to follow her. "Miss Devons," he called ignoring the protests by John and Lestrade who were just curious about why he was running off.

Amber paid him no mind as she walked towards the forensics van to gather her dead camera. She gave a salute to Anderson and Sally Donovan. They both gave her a hesitant smile, as if they still weren't sure what to make of the new comer.

"Miss Devons," she heard her name again but still ignored him as she reached the van, shuffling some things around to find the camera. She checked to make sure the memory card was still in there and no one had gotten a hold of it. She packed up her stuff and when she turned to leave the van she found Sherlock standing there waiting for her to respond.

"What Mr. Holmes?" she taunted lightly as she slammed shut one of the doors, leaving the other one open so that the rest of the crew could get in and out with ease. There were so many police officers running around the street that it wouldn't matter if she left the van as it was. No one was going to try to steal anything unless they were stupid.

"Sherlock," he said, a thread of annoyance making its way into his voice.

"And I recall telling you I prefer Amber. Calling me Miss Devons makes me feel like a school teacher or that I'm back in school." She shuddered. "Either way, I don't like it." She headed in the general direction of the main street where she could catch a cab. "What is it that you needed?"

"What did I get wrong?"

"I told you, not much," her smile again was a little cocky and every so tired. "If you can be patient you might actually learn about me, but I've been assured, several times over that patience is not your strong suit." She passed under the tape, holding it for him as he followed.

When she cast a glance back at him he seemed annoyed and a little bit confused. She couldn't help but smile at that confusion. Throwing the great Sherlock Holmes for a loop was something she shouldn't have been proud of but at that moment she was. _He looks cute when he's confused. _She shook the thought from her head as fast as she could but it returned in a matter of seconds.

"If you keep following me, you are going to pay for my cab ride to the lab and then back to Baker Street," she hissed lightly with her own annoyance now. She wasn't sure if it was due to him following her or the nagging voice in the back of her head that kept calling him cute.

Even as she spoke he kept staring at her. He was stumped, not a normal feeling for him. He was used to knowing things about people that he had never met before. Amber shouldn't have been any different. He had been wrong about her career and about the fact that she was ashamed to wear glasses. She said he hadn't been wrong about much of what he told her but what could it have been? He had said little to begin with. That left him wondering what he had gotten wrong.

Much to his sock she suddenly turned around, slamming a hand on his chest to stop him walking. "Okay Sherlock, this is getting a little annoying. I already told you that you didn't miss much about me. I am not going to stand here right now and tell you what you got right or what you got wrong. I just want to go finish my work and then go home. I promised to met with you and John tonight and talk over Chinese takeaway. You should go back and tell Lestrade what you know. This is the third victim found in that alleyway with the same cause of death. If I'm correct I believe we have a serial killer on our hands and I'm sure as hell certain we what this bastard caught."

"There have been others?" He asked, completely thrown off by her admission and distracted enough by it not to push on about the previous topic. Lestrade hadn't even mentioned their having been other victims. He couldn't even remember reading about it in the papers.

Just about at her limit of annoyance, Amber hailed a passing taxi. "Talk to Lestrade," was the last thing out of her mouth as she entered the cab taking off towards Scotland Yard.

00000

It had been seven by the time Amber had managed to leave the lab, satisfied that all the photographs were labeled properly and where they needed to be. She hadn't intended to stay that long but she had decided to go over some of the pictures taken from the first two murders in order to see if she could make any connections. When she couldn't she decided that it was useless to continue trying. While she might have a good eye for detail and be more observant that the average person, she had never been able to link things together in the way she knew Sherlock or even Lestrade could do. If things were obvious, such as the way each victim was murdered or the location of the body, she could make the connection quite fast. That wasn't as impressive as if she could find the link that solved the case. She wasn't an investigator after all. She was sure by this point that Sherlock had figured it out. He was brilliant after all and had solved cases harder than this rather fast.

So when she had gotten the call from Lestrade mentioning that he was heading for the morgue with Sherlock and John to have a another look at the body, she was rather surprised. Sherlock had already seen the body, but she supposed being able to get a closer look at it in a more clinical setting would allow him to see things differently. Lestrade had also said that he would be bringing both men back to the Yard to look over the photos from all three crime scenes. That she had expected.

They had arrived an hour ago and were still looking over the pictures. She hadn't spoken, just handed off the first two of the files since she was still working on the last one. It was surprising that Sherlock hadn't said anything to her, he had after all been nagging her earlier. John had said hello and all she had given was a wave. When she was working she usually didn't speak but she knew Sherlock had looked hard at her, once again, before going about his work.

Now she was happy to be out of the lab and office heading on her way home. She would be taking tomorrow off due to the fact that she had to actually work on her usual day off. She figured that made up for her lack of personal time that day.

Once she hit the pavement outside she found that the evening was relatively nice and she decided that instead of catching a cab she would walk for a little while. She knew the three and a half miles it took from the Yard to Baker Street was about an hour walk at best so if she managed to walk half of that she would still make it back to her flat before eight, which was her goal.

As her walk progressed she realized how truly tired she was. She had gotten up early for a run, intending for the rest of the day to be spent lazying around her flat doing nothing but watching television and catching up on her reading. The package she received had thrown that off kilter to begin with but having to go to work made things even worse. She had been up for nearly a total of thirteen hours now and it was beginning to take it's toll. She also found herself starving, realizing that the only thing she had eaten since she woke up was a bag of crisps from the vending machine at the Yard.

When a cool wind blew through the street Amber just smiled. To her nothing beat fall in London. Then again she had always loved the city rather than the countryside. So to ward off the cold she just snuggled into her coat, tucked her hands into her pockets and continued on her walk watching people come and go as she did. She hadn't even realized she had been walking for nearly forty five minutes and when she did she chuckled to herself.

Figuring it was useless to take a cab now she would just walk the rest of the way. It paid not to be lazy and she wouldn't feel guilt of eating takeaway food once she got home.

Just as she ended up in front of her building her phone began to ring in her pocket. Pulling it out she saw the number flash on her mobile and frowned. She didn't know the number but answered it anyways. "Devons." She unlocked the door and entered.

"Amber? Hi this is John."

"Oh hello John. Are you lot home yet?"

"That's why I'm calling actually. We're going to be a little late."

"I just got home, don't worry about it."

"Didn't you leave an hour ago? It doesn't take an hour by cab to get to Baker street. Not normally."

"I actually walked." She chuckled throwing off her coat when she made it into her flat.

"You walked three and a half miles?" He sounded surprised.

She laughed as flopped back onto her couch. "It's not that much of a walk. I usually run twice that at least three times a week."

"I'm not surprised," John laughed on the other end. "So I was just calling to see if you wanted to wait to eat with us, well more or less me since Sherlock doesn't eat while on a case, or if you just wanted to call in a rain check."

Amber smiled to herself since he couldn't see her. "Oh I don't think I can deprive Sherlock of the answers he so badly wants. I can wait a little longer I suppose. Just give Sherlock one condition. Tell him he has to eat something or else he's not going to know what he got wrong and what he got right."

"He's not going to enjoy that."

"His problem not mine or yours for that matter. Knock on my door when you get home," she said followed by telling him goodbye and hanging up with a laugh of pure joy. She knew it was going to be fun messing with Sherlock. If she had to now deal with him both in her private life, especially if she wanted some help, as well as her working life she was going to make sure he didn't have it easy. He wasn't going to make her life any easier either. It helped that she was having fun getting rise out of him. Something about the look on his face when he was annoyed or confused just made her want to grin like a school girl.

She couldn't deny that she found herself attracted to Sherlock. He was after all tall, dark, and handsome for lack of a better way of describing him. He held himself with some grace and was a bit brash but she liked that in a man. She didn't like meek men, never had really. That might have stemmed from the fact that none of the men in her family had ever been the kind to be walked on, none of the women for that matter.

However, she knew that though she might have found herself attracted to him he would never be attracted to her. Lestrade had told her that Sherlock was essentially married to his work and had never shown any real interest in a woman, or even a man. Even if he did find himself attracted to someone she doubted she would be his type. She was pretty, her self-esteem wasn't low enough to think she wasn't but she wasn't vein enough to call herself beautiful, but she doubted that even mattered to a man like Sherlock. He would value brains and a woman who knew how to use that brain. She was intelligent, she'd been tested in her youth and even as recently as three years ago, but she wasn't a genius like he was. She was almost certain that if he wanted to find a partner in the opposite sex he would want a woman who was up to par with his smarts, not several steps below it.

She laid her head back on the couch, hearing the soft meow of her cat on the cushion beside her. She rubbed the cat's ears and sighed to herself. Why was she even thinking about Sherlock in such a manner? She had only just met the man and had no right to even begin to make assumptions of what he would like in a partner and what he wouldn't like. She was just being silly and female and she attributed her minds inner workings concerning her attraction to Sherlock as just a sign of being stressed and over worked. Another thing that bothered her was the fact that she was doubting whether or not Sherlock could be attracted to her. She might not be skilled with relationships but she had never had self-esteem issues.

With a sharp shake of her head she tried to push everything concerning Sherlock Holmes and her current attraction to him out of her mind. She knew she had to do something to keep her mind busy and the only thing she could think of to do was take a closer look at the pictures and the watch that had shown up in the box that morning.

Getting up she walked to the nearly empty bookshelf, realizing that she still had some unpacking to do, and grabbed the box which was on the top shelf.

Like that morning she sat it on the table except she knew this time what was inside. She also knew she wouldn't react as she had that morning. She pulled out the gold watch, giving it a good once over noting the engraving on the back. It was from who she believed it had belonged to in the past, something she had expected upon seeing it that morning. She rubbed the face of the watch and smiled sadly feeling a tear slip from her eye.

Wiping it away she put the watch on the table to begin going through the pictures. There were fifteen of them in total and all were high resolution. She knew they had been taken by someone who knew their way around a professional camera. They wouldn't have been taken by a private detective because otherwise they wouldn't have been left for her in such a manner as they were. There were no water marks or any markings for that matter on the paper as to if they were developed somewhere widely known. They had been developed in a private dark room then. She knew they were developed, not printed from a printer, because they still slightly smelled of chemicals. Whoever had taken and developed these had done a poor job of rinsing the chemicals from the developed pictures. She sneered at that. Anyone who took the time to use film should have respected the process and done it right.

She took a glance at each one, noting that they had been taken over the course of the last week. The first ones were from when she had been moving into Baker Street. The ones that followed were of her getting in and out of cabs in front of her flat and some from Scotland Yard. There were a couple of when she was taking her runs as well as coming back from the grocery. The photos gave away nothing as to who was taking them or even why. Her life wasn't that interesting, at least not any more.

Finally the note was the last thing she looked at. It was simple and to the point. It stated she couldn't hide, not that she was really hiding from anyone, and that no one could help her. She didn't quite understand what the note meant nor even why it was in the box. The pictures and watch had actually done their job of giving her a fright. The note was just overkill.

Thinking for a minute Amber realized what it could be. Her heart began to beat in her chest. _You can't __hide, _was referring to the fact that the pictures had been taken of her when she didn't realized it and that she couldn't hide from whoever was stalking her. The last bit, n_o one can help you, _she knew what that meant. No one would be able to trace who was stalking her, that if things got bad no one could save her. It was a subtle threat to her life but one known the less.

With her heart in her throat and her pulse throbbing wildly she stuffed everything back into the box putting it back where she had taken it from a half an hour ago. As she was standing on her toes to shove the box as far back as it would go, a knock on the door startled her.

She gasped, stumbling backwards dropping the box and falling onto her butt landing with a thump and a curse. She stared at the door, her heart still beating so fast she was sure it was about to explode. Another knock sounded. "Coming," her voice was a little strangled but she pulled herself to her feet rubbing her tailbone. She walked to the door, praying that whoever was on the other side of that door didn't mean her harm.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Review!**


	4. Chapter 3

_So here is the next chapter, following directly after the last one. It's a little odd and probably boring but it makes a nice pathway to the next chapter and following ones. I hope this chapter is any good. Like I said it's kind of odd but I enjoyed writing it. Also I really hope no one is OOC. Let me know. I apologize for spelling/grammar errors. I am only human!_

_TheGirlWhoImagined: I'm glad you love the story so far. Sadly the answer to who's at the door isn't nearly as exciting as it could be. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognize, especially Sherlock himself (if I did he would be a nothing but a sheet more often). BBC owns the amazing show and I thank them for it! I do however own Amber and the plot for this story._

_So enjoy!_

* * *

**Breaking the Barrier**

**[003]**

Despite the fact that her tailbone was throbbing as were the palms of her hands, Amber plastered a smile on her face as she swung open her front door. To her pleasant surprise it was Sherlock who stood there instead of some stalker as she had originally thought. She chuckled at her overactive mind before she could even say hello.

Sherlock cleared his throat, slightly uncomfortable with her laughing for no apparent reason. He stood there hoping that she might stop but when she didn't he knew he might as well greet her. At least that might stop her unprompted laughter. "Good evening."

She just chuckled some more moving out of the way so that he could enter. When she finally stopped he was standing in the middle of her living room looking around as if taking stock of everything her could see. He was still in his coat and scarf, his hands clasped behind his back. "Good evening Sherlock. You'll have to excuse my reaction and the state of the flat." She tried not to smile while looking at him.

"Hmm," he responded listening with one ear as he spied the overturned box and it's contents near the bookshelf.

Seeing what he noticed she rushed around him to clean up the mess. "Nothing to see, just a box of personal photos," she mumbled as she stuffed everything back inside placing it on the upper most shelf. "So what brings you here?" _Stupid, _she said to herself already knowing why he was here. She had told John that when they got home to knock on her door. Obviously that was why he was standing here now in her flat.

He just kind of stared at her. Nervously she ran a hand through her messy hair biting at her lower lip for a second before regaining her composure. Her nerves were shot to hell and having Sherlock in her flat wasn't helping much.

"Is something the matter?" he questioned after several moments of what could only be categorized as uncomfortable silence.

"I'm just frazzled for lack of a better term. I think the stress of work and my recent move has taken its toll." She brushed off his cool concern. "Would you like some tea or coffee?" she offered, her manners kicking in as she remembered that he was technically a guest in her home.

"No thank you. Apparently we are all having dinner upstairs so John sent me to collect you." There was an edge of boredom in his voice, as if dinner was the last thing on his mind. From what Amber had gathered about his character she figured that was the truth.

"Don't sound so thrilled." She teased slightly, hoping that some levity would end the awkwardness she felt.

"I don't eat when I'm on a case. Digestion slows me down." he said in hopes that the explanation would clarify his lack of excitement towards dinning with her and John. He didn't want to sound as if he was bored with her, that wasn't the case. He was intrigued by her, curious, and slightly amused despite the fact that she made him doubt his deductions, at least the ones concerning her.

Still barefoot, she finally lead Sherlock from her flat. "Whether you are on a case or not doesn't not negate the fact that you need to eat. Unless you are some kind of robot, which I highly doubt," she gave him a once over with a smile, his back towards her so he didn't see. "A human needs fuel to function. I doubt you are any different. So having dinner, even if it's just a couple of bites, will do you some good." She lectured as they headed towards his place.

He was quiet for a moment as he processed the mini lecture she had give him. She was right after all but he really didn't feel like eating. "I didn't figure you to be the type of own a rodent." He changed the subject.

"What?" Her confusion was visible as she stopped in the middle of climbing the stairs to look at his back once more, this time not for the same reasons as before. "Where the hell did that come from?" she asked when her shock wore off.

He smiled slightly as he waited for her at the top of the stairs. "I noticed the rabbit hutch in the corner of your living room. With you having a cat I figured that you wouldn't own a rodent."

"How did we go from talking about dinner to me owning a rabbit?" She questioned before holding up a hand as they entered his flat. "You know what never mind. My rabbit was a gift from my aunt last year. She had no idea that I had a cat and I couldn't turn down the small little ball of fur my aunt handed me. Nix, my cat," she explained at his curious gaze. "She doesn't bother the rabbit, doesn't even take an interest in her actually which is kind of surprising."

Sherlock said nothing as he took off his coat, hanging it on the back of the door along with his scarf. She stood there not sure if she should sit or do something else. It had been a while since she had felt this uncomfortable around someone else. She had an inkling that it had to do with the fluttering in her stomach at that very moment. _I'm twenty eight years old for Christ's sake, _she thought, _I should not be feeling like a school girl!_

"Where is John?" She finally decided to take a seat on the couch pulling her feet underneath in her much in the same manner as she had been sitting that morning. She was amazed at how different these two meetings, only a handful of hours apart, seemed to be. One had been peaceful, the meeting of two people who didn't know one another. This meeting was uncomfortable, a meeting of two people who didn't know what to say to one another.

Sherlock sat down in his chair, slightly uncomfortable as well. He was not used to dealing with woman unless it was related to a case. Technically she was connected to the current case he was working on with the police but she wasn't directly related to it. He was starting to get irritated with the overall situation. "He went down to see if we could get Mrs. Hudson anything."

She smiled. "That's sweet of him."

Sherlock nodded in acknowledgment of the statement but not really agreeing with it. "What was in that box?"

"They were personal and private photos." She snapped out, a little put off that he was once again pushing her personal boundaries. "They really aren't your concern."

"There was a mans gold watch besides the photos. It's not your watch obviously," she gave him a look that questioned his knowledge of this. "The band is too wide to be a woman's watch so it had to be a mans, and certainly not yours. It appeared to be an older make, nearly twenty years old so it was your father's was it not?"

With a heavy sigh she pushed her glasses off her face and into her hair so she could rub the bridge of her nose. "It did belong to my father, yes. A friend of mine back in Sussex found the pictures in her basement as well as the watch. I stored it there in a box with some other things when we were living together. I guess she found it while going through some boxes and decided to bring them up to me. Enough of an explanation for you?" She was irate but trying very hard to hide it. She didn't like people barging into her personal life. She had envisioned a slight evasion of her more personal life by Sherlock but nothing on a level that was going to make her uncomfortable. He was starting to push the boundaries and she had barely known him.

"The pictures that you put in the box were not normal photographs Amber. I saw them. They were pictures taken from a distance and quite recent. Someone has been following you."

"Sherlock can you, for once in your life, just leave people alone. You're going to be arrested for harassment one of these times," John announced as he joined the two of them in the living room effectively cutting off any more questions or comments.

Amber smiled to the man who had either just saved her from attacking the tall man across from her or from fleeing the flat in annoyance. "Thank you John. At least someone understands privacy." She got herself comfortable on the couch leveling a glare at Sherlock that dared him to questions her again. His returning look was distant and thoughtful but she noticed that spark of curiosity, the same spark she had seen that afternoon at the crime scene when he had learned her profession. But his attention shifted not long after.

"What would you like for dinner, if you haven't eaten yet." John prompted noticing that Sherlock was either thinking or just ignoring the two of them for the time being. They both knew his mind must had been on the case. John was pretty sure that if Sherlock could have been he would have been down at St. Bart's in the lab in an attempt to solve the case.

"I know for a fact that the Chinese place down the street makes a wonderful cashew chicken dish. I did mention Chinese this morning after all."

"Chinese takeaway it is then," he smiled before turning to look at his friend. "Sherlock do you want anything?"

"No."

"Sherlock," John began to chide.

Amber shooed him off to the kitchen to get the phone. "Sherlock if you order something and at least eat some of it I will tell you everything you got wrong about me."

"Tell me about those photos," he countered watching her eyes, which had a moment ago been taunting, turn guarded and a little hesitant. "Those are what have been bothering you since this morning. I also know that this isn't the first time you have received such pictures but it's been a while since that happened, hasn't it?"

"Order food Sherlock and I'll tell you what you guessed right and what you guessed wrong," she offered again, trying to ignore what he had just said. He had nailed it right on the head, much to her surprised, and it sent a chill down her spine.

He sighed in reluctance, wondering why he was taking such an interest in this woman and her personal life. If she didn't wish to speak about it then it shouldn't have really bothered him. Maybe it was the curiosity of what was going on that made him want to know but there was something else. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on. "John, you know what I like. Order it."

Amber gave a satisfied smile as she once again relaxed. "Shall I start now or wait until the food gets here?" She pondered more to herself than to Sherlock or even John.

"Your choice," Sherlock smiled a little at her.

"I suppose telling you a few things couldn't hurt," she was throwing him a bone, after all she had made him wait all day. "I am originally from Scotland, specifically Edinburgh and moved to Birmingham when I was eight years old, that was two decades ago. You were right on my age, nearly dead on which is a bit confusing. How could you guess my age so closely?" She asked, genuinely curious now.

He smirked now. "It was a guess."

"A damn good one if indeed it was a guess. There had to be some indicators?"

"You are in London on your own. You can afford a flat in this area without needing a flatmate but couldn't afford something larger so my guess was that you were under thirty but over twenty five. You still dress in a rather youthful way but not childishly so you are a little older than twenty five. I narrowed it down to twenty seven or twenty eight with a few years on either side encase I was wrong." He couldn't help the slightly smug feeling upon seeing her stare at him in wonder, her anger all but forgotten.

"Wow, I'm actually amazed you could guess my age from that little information." Her smile was wider now as she sat there. She was glad her mind was on something else finally.

"I know that look," John said coming back into the living room to sit down. "Are you showing off again Sherlock?"

"Indeed I am John and she seems to be enjoying it."

"At least you aren't pestering her this time." He laughed a bit.

"Not at all pestering me, though I doubt that will last. Should I go on?" She was taunting him now, dangling little bits of herself in front of him seeing if he would go for the bait. It was too fun on her part and she knew, that despite that fact that she might have been a bit annoying, he was enjoying it as well. She could see it clearly on his face.

"If you wish please go on," he listened to her laugh and felt something tug in his stomach, something unfamiliar to him. He played it off as some sort of excitement of finally learning what he had gotten wrong about the woman sitting before him.

Tapping her finger against her bottom lip she waited several minutes before going on. "Lets see," she pondered, remembering what he had said that morning. "I was a smoker, quit nearly ten months ago after a friend of mine was diagnosed with lung cancer from smoking. I had only been smoking a couple of months at that point and only as stress reliever of sorts."

"There is a small circular mark on the inside of your left arm, rather fresh so from time to time you still reach for a nicotine patch." He said without her having to ask how he knew.

She actually laughed. "Wrong," she sang lightly watching him raise a brow. "I do not still use the patches. The mark you saw was from a more feminine kind of patch," she ended rather lamely and with a blush.

"I don't understand," Sherlock said looking between a now blushing John and Amber. He was completely at a loss.

Sucking in her dignity she answered. "It is from a misplaced birth control patch and the mark is a couple of days old. The damn adhesive won't come off."

"Ethyl alcohol should work," Sherlock suggested no more embarrassed as he had been five minutes ago. There was nothing wrong with birth control and nothing that should have embarrassed the woman across from him.

"Rubbing alcohol? I never thought of that," she chuckled. "The adhesive was the reason I switched to pills anyways," after the words left her mouth her eyes widened in shock and her cheeks flamed to the point she could feel the heat in her face. "I did not say that out loud."

"Not to be embarrassed about. The menstrual cycle is a naturally occurring female bodily function and birth control is responsible especially for a woman of your age."

She didn't think she could blush any more than she already was but she managed to do so. She put both hands over her face and began to laugh nearly uncontrollably. John looked just as out of place and embarrassed as she was. "Just to set the record straight I don't sleep around at all," she directed that more towards John to cut off any thoughts of why she might be on the pill. This evening was not going how she saw it originally. She should have just let Sherlock think he had been right instead of correcting him. "Secondly I don't think this is an appropriate conversation with people I just met. Can we move on now?" She began to run a hand through her hair finding her glasses instead. She slipped them back on and cleared her throat.

"Please do," John choked out getting up to go to the kitchen for a moment. "Would you like anything?"

"Water," she squeaked. "Please."

Seconds ticked by and after she had the water in her hand having taken a sip she felt much better, a little less embarrassed, she continued on. "As you clearly see I wear glasses. I am shortsighted and need to wear glasses or contacts most of the time. My vision isn't that bad so when I run or lounging around I don't have to wear either, which was why I didn't have my glasses this morning. Running with glasses is hard and with contacts it is even harder." She took a drink of water, still feeling a flush in her cheeks. It was going to take hours, or possibly days to feel less embarrassed about what had just been talked about. "I hate my vision, yes, but I am not ashamed of having to wear glasses."

The doorbell sounded downstairs. "I'll get that if you want," she stood as John did.

"No just sit down."

"John I offered this morning. I'll pay."

"Sit down. Think of this as a house warming gift from one neighbor to another," he smiled, made sure his wallet was in his pocket and headed downstairs.

She sat in minor uncomfortable silence with Sherlock once again watching her. She was about to ask him what his problem was when he spoke first. "You aren't like most woman."

It came out more of a mumble but she barely caught it. "What?"

Realizing what he had said out loud he cleared his throat. "Nothing," he flashed her a smile before disappearing from his chair to the kitchen where she heard him rummaging around in a cabinet for what she assumed were plates unless they were going to eat out of takeaway containers. Not that she minded either way.

John had returned now with a bag of food. He motioned for Amber to join them in the kitchen and she did. She hissed when her warm feet hit the cool tile of the kitchen but continued on as both men were attempting to clear the table of various science type equipment. "I still can not believe you have a makeshift lab in your kitchen." She sat down on a chair. "Oh and the severed toes in the fridge gave Mrs. Hudson a fright."

"You really need to move those," John said as he sat a container and fork down in front of her before handing Sherlock his food and then his own. They all sat down and began eating in silence for a few moments.

"Were you married?" Sherlock, having waited as long as he could and ate as much as he deemed necessary to survive that night, asked while she was chewing her latest forkful of food. She nearly choked on a cashew at the blunt statement.

"W-what prompted that?" she managed to ask after coughing and drinking down half a glass of water. She coughed a little more.

He shrugged. "You said you would tell me everything that I got right and wrong. I'm assuming the fact that you were married was wrong since everything before that was right." When she only glared her rolled his eyes. "For the most part."

She cast a glance at John who looked curious and a little displeased with his friend's line of questioning. She looked back at Sherlock to see him waiting somewhat patiently for her to answer. "Yes I was actually married. I was young and stupid, I guess." She sighed setting her fork down. "I eighteen and on my own for the first time in my life. I met Scot, a young army man on leave at a bar. We dated and married nearly a year later. We ended up divorced because I had lost our son around my sixth month of pregnancy and things just went to hell. I didn't miscarry thought. I just didn't make it full term and the baby died from a heart defect." She sighed, poking at her food. "So you weren't technically right Sherlock."

He heard the sadness in her voice. "What happened to your ex-husband after the divorce?"

"I heard three years back that he died in a car crash, drunk driver." She fiddled with the ring around her neck. "I still cared for him even after we went our separate ways. He was a major person in my life for so long even if I realize I hadn't actually been in love with him."

"You've been divorced for seven years now," John stated. "So when you told me this morning that you don't have experience with men what did you mean?"

Amber blushed lightly and looked down at the table once again poking at her food. It was beginning to grow cold.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you," he apologized. "You don't have to explain."

Amber shook her head. "Not to be rude but I actually didn't plan on explaining. I've embarrassed myself enough tonight with, well you were there." She giggled with a shake of her head before continuing on with her meal. "So enough about me, why doesn't someone else talk for a while?"

"I don't believe you've covered everything." Sherlock announced, his food having been long ago forgotten while listening to her talk. She was expressive in her answers while not being to detailed. He had already caught on that she was pained while speaking about certain subjects and he understood, a little more than he would have a year ago.

Giving a sigh she pushed her food away to place her elbows on the table resting her head on her clasped fists. "I believe you haven't eaten enough for me to continue on," she countered, her eyes daring him to challenge her again.

As he reached for the cold remains of his food Amber jumped lightly in her seat, gasping in utter surprised. Both men looked at her in the split second before they heard the ringing. She smiled, once again an embarrassed look on her face as she pulled her mobile out of her pocket. "It vibrates before it rings. Sorry."

As she inspected the screen Sherlock watched her nose scrunch up before she tapped a button putting the phone to her ear. "This better be important Lestrade. I'm in the middle of dinner." Sherlock gave her a curious gaze while she just rolled her eyes and smiled. It only took a second for her smile to drop and her eyes to widened with what he could only say was shock. "I'll be there as soon as I can." She hung up placing the phone gently on the table top.

"Is it something about the case?" John asked watching her carefully.

"No," she said simply. "It's about me."

"What does that mean?" Sherlock was quiet in his chair while John asked all the questions.

Amber blinked a couple of times as she lost herself in her mind not having heard John at all. She couldn't believe this was happening, again. She had hoped that this was all some sort of joke. That whoever was messing with her now was doing just that; messing with her.

Sherlock spoke this time. "A package showed up at Scotland Yard." It was a statement, not a question nor a guess. From the look on her face he knew he was right and it only spurred his excitement more. It was the excitement of a new case, alongside the one he was working for the police.

"Yes," she snarled finally, angry with herself and whoever was starting to turn things upside down. "Please don't sound so excited." She snapped as she pushed back away from the table leaving without saying anything leaving them both quite surprised at her outburst and worried about what was going on.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Review! Feedback is welcomed and enjoyed.**


	5. Chapter 4

_Chapter four, here it is. This wasn't my favorite to write and personally I'm not sure how it actually turned out...so please if anything is wrong (spelling/grammar/how the chapter flows/OOC issues) let me know. And it might be several more chapters before there is any *real* romantic link between Amber and Sherlock...after all these last five chapters have pretty much been set over a twenty four hour period. So yeah, just thought I would let you know._

_TheGirlWhoImagined: Oh yes those mysterious boxes...sometimes there might be something interesting other times it might be boring! And yes Sherlock showing up at the door is very exciting lol._

_Imogen-xox: Thank you and I'm so glad you like the story._

_Chelichan(guest): I'm happy that was your favorite so far. Lets hope you continue to feel that was about later chapters. I'm pleased you don't see Amber as a Mary Sue. That's one of my biggest fears! _

_So enjoy this chapter and feedback is welcome. I respond to reviews (as you can see). _

_Disclaimer: __I do not own anything you recognize, especially Sherlock himself (if I did he would be a nothing but a sheet more often). BBC owns the amazing show and I thank them for it! I do however own Amber and the plot for this story._

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**Breaking the Barrier**

**[004]**

Amber slammed her door shut behind her in pure frustration and anger, and maybe a little bit of fear. She grabbed at her short hair and tugged until she felt light pain shoot through her scalp. The pain helped to calm her down, but only barely as she pulled her glasses off her face tossing them on the couch. She began to pace, her mind racing as to what she should do next.

She had told Lestrade that she would be there to get whatever had been left for her. That was the most logical step to take. The thing was, she did not want to go. She wanted to lock her doors, bolt her windows, and curl up under a blanket like a scared child waiting for the boogie man in the closet to go away. But she wasn't a kid and should not have felt that way. She was a grown woman who worked for the police.

So why was she having such a hard time turning to someone for help? It wasn't pride or ego that drove her to hide what was going on, that she knew. She was nearly a hundred percent certain it wasn't shame. People all around the world dealt with stalkers. It wasn't something shameful on her part, something she had accepted long ago. Maybe it was the fear of the unknown, of not knowing what this person would do if she actually did get help. She didn't want anyone harmed because of her. Stupid, but true.

She new that help was needed now though. Two packages in less than a twenty four hour time period, one to her private home and then one to her place of work. Something had to be done or at least something had to be started to stop whatever was being set into motion. There was no denying that any more. This last week that she'd had to herself, without Sherlock upstairs, had given her the time to push her problem to the back of her mind rendering it as nothing more than an over reaction to something simple. Now that problem was front and center, there was no longer anywhere to hide especially since this had wiggled its way into her work. She had to tell Sherlock, had to tell him what had happened in her past and what was going on now. She didn't want to but there was nothing else she could really do.

Sighing, she stopped pacing and fell back onto the couch careful to avoid her glasses. She curled her legs up to her chest placing her forehead onto her knees. She felt like crying or screaming or punching a wall in frustration. Three extreme emotions she wasn't used to feeling all at once. Her head was beginning to hurt from the mix of emotions and the stress.

With her head now pounding she uncurled herself with a growl and stalked to her bedroom as she realized there was no other choice but to go down to Scotland Yard. She grabbed her scarf from the closet as well as her favorite pair of black boots. She pulled on the shoes, throw the scarf around her neck and stalked from her room. She grabbed her discarded coat off one of the chairs, wrapped herself up in it and stormed out of her flat.

Amber had no issue slamming doors as she left. She wasn't sure why she was so angry but she had a feeling it had something to do with the man upstairs and the circumstances she found herself under. It had been a long while since she had been this angry.

"Heading for Scotland Yard?" Her hand was on the door handle when she heard Sherlock speak from behind her.

She shut her eyes, took in a deep breath and turned around. "Yes I am and no you are not," she added before he could say he was going with her. "Just stay here and leave me the hell alone." She turned the handle and walked outside hearing him carefully following behind her.

Hailing a cab, she hopped in before it even had the time to come to a full stop. "Scotland Yard please." She practically snapped at the driver.

"Would you like me to wait for your friend?" The cabbie asked pointing to Sherlock, who stood just outside the building watching her. She gave a sharp answer of 'no' before slumping down in the seat enjoying the silence as the cab began to finally move, feeling a slight bit of guilt for having been rude to a man she had just met that morning.

00000

Sherlock stood there, still as a statue as the cab left the curb and joined the normal fray of traffic. He wanted to follow, every bone in his body screamed for him to get in a cab and head down to the Yard just as Amber was doing. However he knew if he followed her right now that she would completely shut down. She wouldn't answer his questions and wouldn't let him take whatever interesting case she actually had to offer. He knew that right now the best thing to do was to actually investigate the girl's past as well as her flat.

As he was heading back inside Mrs. Hudson was coming from her flat to see what all the noise had been about. "Why were doors being slammed?" She inquired curiously to her favorite tenant.

"Amber is a little upset," John answered Mrs. Hudson's question as he walked downstairs.

The older women leveled a glare at Sherlock. "What did you do this time? You've just met the poor girl."

"I didn't do anything," he said, his annoyance with the situation clearly beginning to show. Why was he always blamed when someone he knew was mad? "Whoever is stalking her is the one making her mad. Not me."

"She's being stalked?" There was surprise in the woman's voice. "Oh that poor thing, I had no clue!"

"Um hm," Sherlock barely heard a word she had said as he turned towards John. "I need you to look up whatever you can about Amberlyn Devons or anything about her past, family included."

"What are you going to do while I'm doing that?"

"I'm going have a look around her flat," he made his way to the door leading to the basement. He opened it only to have Mrs. Hudson yell sharply at him. This uncharacteristic yell got his attention as he looked at the older woman.

"I told you this morning Sherlock you are not going to break into that girl's flat whether it helps you find out who is stalking her or not!" Her hands were on her hips, her eyes daring him to break into the flat below.

He sighed and continued down the steps. "I am not breaking in," he turned the unlocked door handle. "She rushed out so fast she forgot to lock the doors. I am not breaking in, merely investigating." With that he entered followed by his flatmate and landlady.

Sherlock ignored them both as he went directly to the bookshelf to gather the box he had seen overturned a couple of hours ago. He opened it while standing there pulling out a thick stake of photographs as well as a small slip of paper. He left the watch where it was for now, leaving the box on the coffee table going to sit in one of the chairs.

"She left her glasses," John said picking them up off the couch folding them neatly and setting them on a side table where they couldn't be harmed.

Mrs. Hudson fidgeted in her spot. "She must have left in a rush. Oh Sherlock this doesn't feel right, going through her things like this."

John put a comforting hand on the older woman's arm. "He's only here for that package we found this morning, nothing else."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Sherlock spread the photos out of the table before him. "Inside that box she found these photos, an older gold watch, and a slip of paper with a handwritten note. These things combined has upset and scared Amber. I assume that the same items, minus the watch that is, will be found in the package she is on the way to claim at Scotland Yard. Now shut up I need to think."

Sensing that neither of them would be of any use, John and Mrs. Hudson left the flat. As soon as they were upstairs John set about looking up any information he could find about Amber on the internet. Mrs. Hudson went into the kitchen and began to tidy up a bit as well as start a pot of tea.

"I didn't know Amber had a rabbit," John said while typing and sorting out irrelevant sites. "She has a cat doesn't she?"

"A cat and a rabbit. She said the rabbit was a gift from her aunt a year ago. Apparently Nix, her cat, doesn't bother Rose, the rabbit, at all. That cat doesn't bother much of anything actually, except house plants, so she told me." The woman continued on cleaning as if it was her job. No matter how many times she claimed not to be their housekeeper she always found herself doing something to tidy up or help them. She had been doing the same for Amber since she moved in.

"Nix? Like the Greek goddess of night? That's an odd name for a cat."

"I never really thought anything about the names of her pets. I did inquire about the rabbits name though. Rose seems a bit odd for a rabbit but she said it was after a favorite character of a television show she watches. I can't think of what it was though for the life of me." She laughed a little wiping down the stove top before straightening the counter.

Mrs. Hudson came out of the kitchen carrying a cup of tea for John, setting it on the desk beside him. "Have you found anything yet?"

He shook his head. "Nothing yet. It could take a while. You don't need to stay up."

"It's quite alright. I don't mind. I still can't believe that Amber is being stalked. She seems like such a nice girl," she said going back into the kitchen. "She has only been living here for a week but she's a lovely tenant. Doesn't make to much noise, besides tonight that is, and minds her own business. She keeps a clean flat, something you and Sherlock can't seem to do," she was chiding a little bit but there was love in her voice.

John chuckled, "I try, Sherlock makes it a bit hard though."

"I'm sure he does, leaving body parts in the fridge and microwave. It can't be sanitary," she shuddered as she sat on the couch with her own cup of tea having finished cleaning what she could of the kitchen. "Sherlock seems to have taken an interest in Amber, hasn't he?"

He shrugged. "It seems as if he has. I don't know why but something about her draws him in and I don't think it has to do with whatever is going on in her life either."

"You think he likes her? As in romantically 'likes' her?" Her eyes were wide now.

John actually laughed at the notion of Sherlock liking anyone in a romantic manner. In the time that he has known Sherlock he hadn't seen him show interest in any female, besides Irene Adler that was. "I don't know. He has only known her for less than a day."

"It would be nice for that boy to have a girl in his life. Maybe keep him from shooting up my walls."

"Maybe keep him from trying to smoke as well," John added continuing to look for anything on the internet that could be of use concerning Amber. So far all he had found was some of her earlier work from her days at Oxford where she apparently got her BFA in photography and an article concerning her ex-husband. Besides that he was still on the hunt.

An hour passed before he leaned back in his chair sighing. He was becoming tired but wasn't about to give up his search. He wondered what Sherlock had found in those photos and if he had respected Amber's privacy enough not to rummage through the rest of her things. As he clicked a link that sounded relevant he finally thought he found something that might be of interest.

He was silent for a moment as he began to read the news article dated nearly twenty years ago. There wasn't much but it was something. He stopped his search looking up at Mrs. Hudson coming back into the living room with a fresh cup of tea for him. "Mrs. Hudson could you go get Sherlock. I think I found something he would be interested in seeing."

She didn't ask just did as she was requested. She returned with Sherlock several minutes later. He was holding the box, as well as Amber's glasses. That gave John the impression that he was going to eventually head to Scotland Yard to talk with Amber, if she was even willing to see him.

"What is it John?" He asked setting the stuff down wherever he could find a clear spot. He leaned over John's shoulder to skim over the articles that were open on the screen. There wasn't much information, just enough to give him an idea as to what might be going on with the twenty eight year old living downstairs. "Come on John," he tapped the back of the chair with what could only be explained as a joyful smile on his face as he grabbed both the box and glasses.

"I don't think you should be smiling like that." John didn't even ask where they were going. He just grabbed his coat and followed Sherlock.

Mrs. Hudson trailed behind the duo, worried and curious at the same time. "Where are you going?"

"To get answers out of Amber," the tall man said simply. "Don't wait up!" He called walking out the front door leaving John to explain exactly what Sherlock meant by what he had said. Five minutes later they were both in a cab heading for Scotland Yard.

00000

When Sherlock and John arrived at Scotland Yard it was fifteen minutes until midnight. Like they had expected most of the building was dimly lit but an assortment of people still came and went between the floors doing whatever work they had to get done. They weren't at all surprised to find Lestrade still at work either.

He stood in front of his office with a mug of coffee in his hand while looking at Amber, who was apparently sleeping at his desk. From his vantage point he could see all the pictures spread out beneath her arms and head, what appeared to be a small box sat on the edge of the desk teetering there as if ready to fall at any moment. He was curious but he wasn't about to go in there, seeing as she hadn't been in the best mood upon arrival.

Sherlock went to stand beside the DI, his hands clasped behind his back looking at the redhead fighting the urge to walk in and wake her up. "How long has she been asleep?"

"Half an hour or so," Lestrade shrugged to show he wasn't sure if that was how long she had been napping or not. "Do you have any idea what is going on?"

"I have a couple of theories, none of which are pleasant. I need to speak with her." He started for the door only to have John grab his arm stopping him for doing anything. "What?" He asked, irritated that he was being disrupted once again.

"She doesn't need any more stress. With a serial killer on the loose and whatever this is going on in her life she just needs some sleep." John said giving his best opinion as a doctor.

"Well she can't sleep at my desk all night. That's not going to help either." Lestrade pointed out.

"Then wake her up! I can talk to her before she goes home to get some sleep." While what he said did make some sense, John wasn't to thrilled on the idea of Sherlock essentially grilling an already stressed out woman, a woman who would kick Sherlock's ass if she was angry enough. When no one spoke up against his idea he moved once towards the door to the office.

Lestrade stopped him this time earning a glare from his consulting detective. "She isn't to pleased with you right now. She came into the office screaming about you being an annoying bastard. As enjoyable as it would be to see her punch you, I think it will be better if I wake her up."

"Fine," Sherlock exhaled sharply stepping back letting the older man enter the office.

Once inside Lestrade was careful not to make any unnecessary noise. He had only caught a glimpse of her anger coming into the office and he didn't really want that directed at him for any reason. He laid a hand on her shoulder giving her a gentle shake.

She woke with a snap nearly falling backwards in the chair in surprise. "I wasn't sleeping," she groggily responded rubbing her eyes proving her response false. "That's deeply programmed," she said with a weak chuckle. "How long was I out?" She stretched her arms skyward noticing she had dislodged several pictures from the spots she had originally put them in.

"Half an hour, maybe a little more," he said leaning his hip onto the desk. "Sherlock is outside the office. He really wants to speak with you while John thinks you just need to go home."

"I might as well talk to him or else he's never going to leave me be. I only met him this morning but I think he's gotten under my skin more than Anderson did my first day here." She laughed as she placed pictures where she wanted them. She waved her arm towards Sherlock, who she could see standing there impatiently, giving him permission to enter.

When both men entered she actually smiled despite herself. She chalked it up to being overly tired and not in her right mind. "I see you were in my flat," she motioned towards John who held the box. "Did you happen to bring my glasses?" She was handed them as soon as she asked. "So what is it that you want this time Sherlock?"

He came to stand behind her, looking at the assortment of photos that he knew had come from the package Lestrade informed her about. He saw that they were recent, as if that day recent as well as a couple most likely from a few days back. There were several photos that included himself, those had been taken at the crime scene that afternoon. He realized that like the last batch of photos, the ones in the box John had set on the desk upon entering the office, had been taken from a rather close distance.

She gave a sigh leaning back in the chair. "I can assume that you researched me while I was gone. So what do you know now?"

"That you lost your parents at age eight to murder. Your brother was killed in a car accident, gnawed through breakline according to authorities and your twin sisters went missing three years ago here in London, with one of the having turned up dead in the river. You were raised by your aunt and uncle in Birmingham with their five children." Sherlock said never taking his eyes off the pictures. He was trying to find any clue that could help him and her.

Amber stared at him in shock before turning to John. "He had you essentially Google me didn't he?"

He shrugged, embarrassed. "Sorry. If it helps any it took me nearly a hour to find anything useful and not much even then."

"My aunt tried to keep everything as private as she could, connections in politics you know." She added sadly turning back towards Sherlock. "What exactly do you know of my parents' murders?" She prodded him with her elbow to get his attention. It worked rather well.

"They were both shot execution style in the back of the head. Both had been bound and gagged, your mother raped. They were discovered by your three siblings. The murderer was never caught and the case has since gone cold. Is there anything you would like to elaborate on?" He noted her eyes were gleaming with unshed tears.

Closing her eyes tightly she took a deep breath to keep her emotions in check for the time being. "No there isn't. You know what you need to."

"Then tell me how this is connected to their murder," he demanded watching as the tears she tried so hard to hold back begin to fall slowly down her cheeks.

"Not tonight Sherlock. Can't you see this is bothering her?" John's voice was harsh, the tone he used to keep Sherlock from saying or doing anything that was rude or thoughtless.

Amber shook her head. "If I don't speak now I'm never going to." She shaky sigh. "To begin with my brother was not simply killed in a car crash, at least that's not what I believe nor what my sister's did. The breakline had a rather clean cut compared to having been gnawed through by some kind of rodent as the police claimed. The police up in Edinburgh didn't seem to care very much and blew us off labeling it as an accident."

Lestrade gave her a hard stare. "So you are saying that you believe that your brother was murdered. Why would you believe that?"

"Maybe he knew something concerning our parents death, I don't know. He was always hounding the detectives on the case but they rarely listened to him. He was a twenty year old boy who lost his parents after all." She shrugged knowing the look she was getting from the detective inspector. It was the look she had gotten several times over the years. "Don't give me that look Greg. I'm not some nutter," she hissed.

"And what of your sisters' disappearance?" Sherlock prompted ignoring everyone else in the room but Amber.

"Kelly and Brianna were in London looking at wedding dresses. Bri had just gotten engaged. I was supposed to meet them in the city but I was going to be a day late because of work. When I got to their hotel I was told that they hadn't even checked in. I tried their mobiles but got no answer. Two days later I was concerned enough that I filed a missing persons report for both my sisters." She blinked back tears. "Kelly's body was found floating in the Thames three days after that. Brianna was never found."

"Do you have any reason to believe it wasn't just a random kidnapping and murder?"

The shake of her head was violent and brief. "Truthfully I don't know if their attack had to do with what happened to my parents and brother."

"So you think that this stalker is the same person who killed your parents, brother, and sisters?" Sherlock was still the only one speaking. Lestrade having shut up after having been snapped at by the redhead. John knew that it was better to listen than try to be heard.

"I don't know Sherlock."

"When did you first get photographs such as these?"

She thought for a moment. "I had just gotten divorced when a large envelope was delivered by post to my flat, that was seven years ago. They were just pictures of me doing whatever I naturally did. Going to the grocery, shopping with friends, and taking my weekly runs. It was a little odd but I played it off as a joke. A year later I got more of the same photos this time with a note stating that whoever was taking the pictures was watching me and there was nothing I could do. I was slightly scared and felt a little more than just violated but I still did nothing, which thinking back now was stupid on my part. I moved to Sussex after that and until this morning never received any more cryptic messages or pictures." She shuddered. "Before you ask, no I have not seen nor noticed anyone following me. I am observant as you know but I haven't even seen a car following me. It's quite frustrating actually."

Fiddling with her fingers as she looked at everyone she finally let her eyes land on Sherlock who looked at her expectantly. "Following the message found in my last unwanted package, I've been hesitant to ask for help but I'm asking now. Will you help me?"

Now knowing a little more about what was going on, Sherlock felt himself smile. With the serial killer case this afternoon and the interesting, yet somewhat troubling, situation Amber found herself in he was going to be set for quite a while in the way of cases. So when he straightened himself and looked into her eyes he smiled. "Of course."

She gave a sigh of relief as every muscle in her body seemed to relax. She slumped back in Lestrade's desk chair with the faint outline of a smile of her own on her face. "Thanks. I'll try to be a good client but I can't guarantee that I won't get angry with you. However I can promise I won't punch you."

"We'll see how long that lasts," John snorted from his seat. Lestrade just gave a soft chuckle while both Sherlock and Amber looked at them. Amber wasn't amused by their laughter and Sherlock was a little puzzled by it.

"Try not to be such a know-it-all Sherlock and you two should get along just fine," Lestrade still have a silly smile on his facing knowing that things weren't going to be easy for the two of them. Amber had proved to be a smart and strong woman, certainly someone would could give the great Sherlock Holmes a run for his money.

Amber shook her head trying not to laugh at the absurdity of what Lestrade had said. "Okay, I think that is my cue to go home and get some sleep." She began to gather all the pictures into a pile noting that there was approximately the same number as the ones found this morning.

"I would like to keep the pictures, the ones from this morning as well as these ones. If you have the older ones, that would be helpful." Sherlock said motioning to the pile she was stuffing into the thin box.

She nodded handing him the box hesitantly. "I have to finish unpacking. When I come across them I'll be sure to send them your way. Can I have the watch though?"

"Certainly," Sherlock, knowing it meant something to her, allowed her to take the watch out of the other box and slip it into the pocket of her coat that was on the back of the chair. "I already looked it over and there are no discernible clues on it. It had been wiped clean before you touched it."

"I apologize that it couldn't be of any help. Truthfully at the moment I don't think anything I can offer you can help. The pictures aren't helpful, besides the fact that the ones from this morning were film and these tonight are digital. The ones from when I was younger are film as well."

"Not many people use film today," Lestrade pointed out.

"That's true," she said with a yawn, getting up to slip on her coat. "These pictures will still be hard to track because there are no marks meaning they weren't developed commercially. The digital ones aren't going to be easy to track either." She sighed running her hand through her hair for the hundredth time that night.

"Go home, get some rest. If you're needed tomorrow I'll call but other wise take the day off." Lestrade said as he began to usher her out of his office. John and Sherlock stayed behind.

Once out of earshot she rolled her shoulders. "Please don't let him forget about the alley murders. He might be the only hope we have of catching that bastard."

"He won't admit it but he's stumped as much as we are. This killer isn't leaving behind much evidence but he's bound to make some sort of mistake soon."

"Sherlock stumped?" She hadn't meant to giggle at that but having been up since six that morning was beginning to take it's toll. "Lets just hope that no one dies in the meantime and make sure he puts some time into that case as well as mine."

"Speaking of your case why didn't you search out help when you first got the pictures?" That question had Amber flinching only slightly.

"I was stupid and young. I thought that maybe this would all stop and it did, for a little while. I just want to know what kind of sick person would stalk me. I'm not interesting by any means and I don't know much about what happened to my parents nor my siblings." She pushed the down button for the lift.

Lestrade shrugged. "Just try to keep yourself safe and keep an eye out for anything out of the usual. Let me know if anything suspicious happens."

She stepped into the lift when the doors opened. She turned to face Lestrade with a slight smile. "I'm not stupid Lestrade. If anything odd occurs you'll be the first I call." Giving a wave, the doors shut leaving the DI alone. He sighed as he headed back towards his office to help Sherlock find some clue as to who was following Amber.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Review please!**


	6. Chapter 5

_Hello there everyone. Here is chapter five. This chapter was, at one point, extremely long! I found a way to cut it in half so you will be getting the next chapter in the next few days after I read it over and fix any mistakes. As usual I am sorry if anyone is OOC or if there are any grammar/spelling errors. It's late and I'm kinda tried. Feedback is welcome!_

_Enjoy._

_Disclaimer: __I do not own anything you recognize, especially Sherlock himself (if I did he would be a nothing but a sheet more often). BBC owns the amazing show and I thank them for it! I do however own Amber and the plot for this story._

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**[005]**

_October 31st_

After nearly two weeks with no development in either Amber's case or the alley murders, as Amber had taken to calling them, Sherlock was beginning to feel the pangs of boredom. John, having sensed the impending mood shift in Sherlock, had hidden all the guns the day before just to make sure that none of Mrs. Hudson's walls were shot up again. He had also made sure to get rid of any and all cigarettes hidden around the flat. With none of his usual distractions, Sherlock was bound to do something stupid no matter what, but at least John was trying to keep his friend out of trouble.

So on the afternoon of Halloween when Amber walked into their flat, she was not surprised to see John sitting in his chair reading the paper while Sherlock was destroying the living room in search of what she could only assume was his cigarettes. The sight made her smile, a frustrated Sherlock was interesting to watch to say the least.

"Good afternoon boys!" Her voice was raised an octave higher than it usually was in order to get Sherlock's attention. When that failed she just chuckled looking at the blond man who was now shaking his head in laughter.

"Hello Amber," John said, essentially for both of them. "What do you have there?" He motioned towards the two Halloween themed clear Chinese takeaway containers she swung in her hand. They looked to be filled with cookies of all sorts, each baring a name label.

She smiled handing a container to John. "Cookies as you can clearly see," she said taking a seat in the chair opposite of him. Sherlock might have yelled at her two days ago for sitting in 'his' chair but since he wasn't paying any attention she figured it was okay, for today at least.

"Thanks." He was genuinely thankful and grateful for her gift of sweets.

Her smile was bright as she lifted up the second container hanging it near Sherlock as he walked by. "You wouldn't want to upset your guest now would you?" She sang, giggling to herself as the container was snatched from her hand, nothing said at all as the lanky man walked to the kitchen only to walk right back out, empty handed. "I make cookies twice a year and give them to friends and co-workers. You'll be getting more for Christmas," she added as John took out a cookie to eat.

"Where's my skull?" Sherlock snapped suddenly surprising Amber. That was the first she had heard him actually speak since she had walked in. She just shrugged when he looked at her, more like glared actually. John did the same nibbling on his cookie.

"These are amazing," he uttered through a mouthful of food completely ignoring Sherlock, who once again disappeared into the back of the flat stomping and sighing.

Amber once again found herself laughing a little. "Thank you," she stood up. "Sorry to rush off but I have a party to get ready for."

"A party?" Sherlock asked coming back into the living room, cookie clearly in his hand half eaten. He sounded half interested yet half distracted at the same time. He hadn't really paid much attention to Amber upon her entrance and while he might now be paying her some notice his mind was still wondering one where the hell his skull had gone to as well as where his cigarettes were hidden.

_At least he's eating something, _she thought to herself. "It's Halloween Sherlock. Some people have parties to go to and I happen to be one of them. My cousin is in town with her husband and they are hosting a party. Some friends I haven't seen in several months are coming and I've taken a sort of half day. Have a good day Sherlock," she tipped an invisible hat at the once again distracted man. She wondered if she would ever get his full attention when it wasn't concerning a case. "You too John."

"Have fun." She left the flat with a wave of her hand.

"Halloween parties are for children." Sherlock announced moments after her departure finishing off the cookie he had been eating.

John just sighed, rubbing his face with his free hand, the other still holding the container. "She's twenty eight years old, still young enough to be enjoying life to its fullest which includes parties. So leave it alone Sherlock and let the girl have fun."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and went back to looking for cigarettes. "I know we have some around here, where are they? You've hidden them again." He accused while tossing a pillow off the couch.

Having caught the drift of Sherlock's change in conversational subject John just smiled, completely amazed at how the man's mind worked and what his priorities were. "I got rid of them days ago."

Sherlock rounded on John, he was stunned and more than slightly annoyed with his friend. "Why would you do that?"

"Because you don't need them."

"Of course I do!" Sherlock nearly stomped his foot in a childish manner. "Where is my skull?" He questioned again. Boredom was not something Sherlock could deal with. If he didn't have anything to occupy his brain he felt as if he were essentially dying or going mad. He did not like this feeling, not at all.

Sensing what could only be called a melt down on his friend's part, John took a deep breath. A bored, and annoyed Sherlock, was not something he wanted to deal with right this moment. What he wanted was some quiet time without Sherlock complaining and/or tearing apart their flat. "Maybe Mrs. Hudson took it or you might have misplaced it."

"I never misplace it," the other man huffed flopping back on to the couch.

"Then Mrs. Hudson took it again." That was not an unusual occurrence, Mrs. Hudson taking something or putting it somewhere else that is. John knew eventually the skull would turn up, it always did when it happened to disappear, which was usually once or twice a month and never for more than a couple of days. It upset Sherlock to a certain point but he would forget about it before it even had the chance to turn up. Then the process would repeat. It was a never ending cycle.

Sherlock hopped to his feet. "Then I shall ask," he said throwing off his robe striding out of the flat and down the stairs barefoot before John could even register the change of emotion. Like always he ended up following after him.

He nearly barreled into Amber when he turned to corner of the hall leading to Mrs. Hudson's door. She had an overnight bag slung over her shoulder and appeared to be leaving the building. "Sorry."

"Don't be. Sherlock actually ran into me, didn't even apologize about it. Kept me from falling over though," she said with soft smile. "I assume he's looking for his skull still?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "Any idea where it might have gotten to?"

"No idea," her sudden grin said otherwise as she placed a finger to her lips making the universal sign of 'don't tell anyone', then waved and left. He took a minute to process what he had just learned and he ended up leaning on the wall laughing. When Amber had gotten her hands on the skull he wasn't sure but it had to have been in the last day or so, which was when it had gone missing. He couldn't recall Amber having been in the flat anytime when they hadn't been there. That didn't matter, what did was the fact that Sherlock had no idea. She was good and a tad bit evil. That much both Sherlock and John had learned about the redhead in the last week and a half. When she wasn't stressing out she enjoyed a good joke and wasn't afraid to tease others as long as it was in good nature.

"She didn't move it," Sherlock snarled coming out of Mrs. Hudson's flat. He stopped when he noticed John laughing against the wall. "What's so funny?"

"Oh nothing," he said. "I think I'm going to go to the grocery. We need some milk, bread, and half a dozen other things." He said leaving Sherlock standing there confused as to what had just happened. He was still standing there as John left.

Mrs. Hudson came out finding Sherlock standing in the hall thinking hard. "I do recall Amber saying she had left something upstairs yesterday. I let her in, thinking you wouldn't mind. Maybe she knows where that skull of yours went to."

His head snapped towards her as he smiled. It hit him that it was Amber who had taken the skull and John knew about it, or had just found it out. That would have explained the laughter and the sudden urge the man felt to go to the grocery. "Actually I believe she was the one who took it. Would you mind allowing me into her flat to retrieve it?" He questioned.

"I suppose it wouldn't harm anything, as long as you just go in and grab the skull, nothing else." She wasn't sure how she felt about letting him in but figured it could do no harm if Amber had actually taken something of Sherlock's. She unlocked the doors letting him in.

Sherlock walked through the door noting that all the lights were off, as if she didn't expect to come home that night. He saw that she had finally unpacked everything and the place was in a bit of disarray, as if she worked better in a slight mess than in perfect order. He preferred that as well, anyone taking a look at his own flat could tell that. It made him like her just a bit more.

He eventually spotted his skull sitting on the mantle above the fireplace in the exact same spot that he kept it in his flat. There was a note stuck to it to the top with a piece of tape.

_If you pick up the skull there's a little something to take the edge off._

_I know how you feel. _

— _AD_

He had no clue what that meant exactly but he lifted the skull off the mantle anyway. Underneath he found two lone cigarettes tied together with a rubber band with yet another piece of paper wrapped around them with the word 'you're welcome' printed in Amber's neat print.

Shaking his head in disbelief, he could only chuckle as he pocketed contraband knowing full well that John would object to them. Carrying the skill from the flat he shut the door behind him meeting his landlady at the top of the small set of stairs. "Thank you Mrs. Hudson," he said with a bright and rather happy smile. He knew the woman was confused just by the look on her face. He didn't care, his mood had changed and it had nothing to do with smoking a cigarette or working on a case.

00000

It was nine in the evening as Amber climbed out of a taxi in front of St. Bartholomew's Hospital. She handed over a couple of notes from her coat pocket, thanked the cabbie, and slammed the door shut watching the black cab take off. Even at this hour she heard children laughing while dressed in costume. Even adults seemed to be indulging in the holiday, some wearing hats or masks, other just simply telling someone else happy Halloween. She chuckled to herself as she jogged in three inch heels towards entrance of the hospital.

She wasn't a fan of hospitals. She hated the smell, that overly clean nearly antiseptic scent that hung in the air. Not only for the reason did she hate hospitals, if anything it was for the sole reason of the fact that she had been the one to identify her sister after her body had been pulled from the river three years ago. She had come to this hospital in particular if she remembered correctly. Despite that she tried to smile at the people who gave her odd looks she made her way to the lab where she had been ordered to meet Sherlock. Why, well she wasn't sure, but she was about to find out.

Pushing through the doors, Amber saw Sherlock sitting in front of a microscope, both eyes glued to the lens while John seemed to be poking at something in a test tube on the counter behind him. When neither of them looked at her she smiled, removed the coat, and stood there with her arms crossed as she waited for either one of them to notice her presence in the room. She wondered how long she could stand their unnoticed.

It took several minutes but eventually Sherlock did look up and she got the satisfaction of seeing his eyes widen in shock. She always liked making an impression and when better to do that then on Halloween dressed in a costume from a party she was actually happy to be out of. Plus the look on his face as his eyes roamed her outfit was satisfaction in its own right. As he took his time looking her over she felt a bit of warmth begin to flood her body as a blush crept its way up her neck and into her face. She hoped he didn't notice.

John continued to poke at the test tube, wondering what exactly was in it because Sherlock sure as hell hadn't told him, even after being repeatedly asked. He finally heard someone, a female someone, clear their throat in order to gain attention. He turned to see Sherlock first and the dark haired man was staring very intently at someone else, the owner of the throat clear no doubt.

When John caught sight of Amber, he knew exactly why Sherlock was staring. She was dressed unlike he had ever seen her. She wore skin-tight black leather pants, three inch black leather calf high boots, and a black and red corset which had actually caught his attention in the first place despite the fact that he was trying to be a gentlemen about her attire and not stare. Her hair was artfully messy with what appeared to be black glitter strewn throughout and her makeup was heavy enough to be noticeable but light enough to still look pretty and not over done. She wasn't wearing glasses, the chain with her old wedding rings was missing, but she wore a metal and ruby choker. The only way a man wasn't going to stare was if they happened to be gay. From the look on Sherlock's face he certainly wasn't, it was the same look he had upon seeing Irene Adler completely nude. He thought he caught a hint of a blush in Amber's neck and face but with the lab being dimly lit on the side she was on, he couldn't tell.

"Shut your mouths boys and tell me why the hell am I here. I was at a party you know," she wasn't about the lie to herself. She thoroughly enjoyed seeing that look on Sherlock's face. She took a seat in an abandoned chair and she found herself wanting to test a theory she had formed after first meeting him. Leaning just a little more forward she wondered what kind of reaction she could get out of the man. When his eyes darted down for a second she grinned with satisfaction. _Doesn't show interest in woman my ass, _she inwardly chuckled having remembered what Lestrade had told her weeks ago.

John patted Sherlock on the back which caused the other man to shake his head snapping him out of his mind. "Um, yes. I called you here because I think I know where the first set of pictures you ever received were developed."

Sitting back in shock Amber stared hard at him, all thoughts of flirting with the man in front of her vanishing. "How is that even possible? It's been nearly seven years since I received those." She tapped her fingers lightly on her leather clad thigh in nervousness. This subject was touchy on her part and while she wasn't so much scared now that didn't mean it was any more comfortable for her to discuss.

Sherlock motioned her over to look at the computers. He watched her walk and then finally stand behind him to gaze at the screens. She leaned forward slightly, leaning into his back. He felt something stir in his stomach, a somewhat pleasant feeling that he shoved away for the moment. He planned on revisiting that sensation and the reason behind it but not at that particular moment. Right now he needed to concentrate on getting any more information out of Amber. He just wished he didn't find himself wanting to stare at her attire more.

"Sussex?" she read off the screen, surprise weaving its way through her voice. "How can it be from Sussex? I was in Birmingham."

"Did you happen to know anyone from Sussex at the time? Someone your sisters knew or your brother maybe? Anyone from your past, friends or family? Maybe an old friend of one of your parents?" He shot off questions faster than she could process them.

She shook her head rapidly standing to her full height. "No, not at all. My aunt and uncle as well as my cousins were all either in Birmingham or north of that. Kelly and Bri were living back in Scotland around then and my brother was already gone. My friend Megan was my flatmate at the time, I moved in with her after my divorce and she moved with me to Sussex two years ago and still lives there now. Well for now anyways. She hadn't even been south of Oxford until we moved there. I don't remember any of my parents' friends, I was only eight when they passed after all." She tapped a red tipped finger nail against her ruby painted lips. "How did you even find that out?"

"There were traces of dirt in the envelope, unnoticeable really and probably left there by accident by your mystery stalker. If you hadn't of stored everything in a plastic bag the sample wouldn't have been viable or possibly it wouldn't have been there at all. As hard as it is for me to say this but I couldn't find anything on any of the other packages." He wasn't to pleased with that, he hated being stumped or at least coming to a dead end. "There might be some DNA on the seal, which is what I was about to test for before you got here."

"Well—" Amber sighed hearing her mobile ring from her coat pocket. "That's probably Megan or Christy," she mumbled more to herself than to Sherlock or John. She stuck her hand in the pocket pulling her phone out, looked at it, and hit the decline button. "Yep, just Christy."

"Who is Christy?" John asked with raised brows

She smiled fondly. "My oldest cousin. She is three years older than me and two months pregnant which is why I wasn't to sad to leave that party. A party with no alcohol isn't as fun as one would think." She chuckled to herself. "Didn't matter really, I'm technically still on the clock." She gave a shrug as if that wouldn't have mattered.

Rounding the table once more, phone now wedged into the back pocket of her pants, she leaned on the counter behind Sherlock. Just as she was about to talk the doors to the lab swung open again revealing a mousey looking woman. "Sherlock—" the woman started before noticing Amber in the background. "Oh hello I didn't know someone else was joining you." The woman spoke eying Amber suspiciously.

"Hello," Amber smiled not judging the woman's reaction to seeing her since she was essentially dressed like a prostitute. The woman rang a bell in her head, she just couldn't figure out why. "Amber Devons, I work with Scotland Yard's forensics team. You're Molly Hooper correct?"

"Um, yes how did you know?" The woman pushed a lock of hair behind her ear nervously.

_Shy little mouse, _she thought to herself, _pretty enough if she tried with a massive crush on Sherlock. _Amber wasn't stupid and she could figure little things out, like the look the woman gave Sherlock before having set eyes on Amber behind him. "Lestrade informed me of who works where and if I ever need to photograph the body after it was hauled away that I was to go to you." It hit her then. "You worked here three years ago!"

"Yes," the woman said confused as to where the conversation was going.

"I meet you briefly when I can to identify my sister's body. You brought me coffee." She smiled at the memory, the only real bright spot of that day.

Molly gave a soft yet uncertain smile. "I'm sorry that was a while ago, I remember you on vaguely."

"Quite alright," Amber a dismissive wave. "Three years and hundreds of bodies can replace a single memory of a blubbering relative. I do apologize for my attire at the moment. Halloween party," she shrugged one of her bare shoulders.

"Well you certainly look..nice."

"Oh don't sugar coat it. I look like a prostitute. If I had my wings I think the costume would have made more sense or less depending on your view point. Sadly wings do not fit under a peacoat and had to be left behind. I didn't care to crush them." She motioned towards her coat which hung on a chair.

"What were you supposed to be anyway?" Sherlock finally asked the question they were all wondering.

Feeling a little flirty once more she leaned forward close to Sherlock's ear. "An evil faerie," she announced loud enough for everyone to hear but soft enough that she wouldn't hurt Sherlock's hearing. "But that's another story for another day," she finished leaning back to her original spot looking to John who was fighting a grin. Molly didn't look at all pleased but tried to smile a little.

"I was coming—"

Amber growled as her ring tone once again sounded off. She pulled her phone out of her pocket glaring at the screen before finally answering it. She waved towards Molly to continue as she barked an answer storming out the doors as to not interrupt.

With her hands clasped in front of her Molly looked out the door window at Amber than turned to the men once more. "She's a bit odd isn't she?"

John actually laughed. "Odd doesn't cover Amber, unique maybe. What is it that you wanted Molly?"

"I was coming to see if you or Sherlock wanted tea, maybe coffee," she flashed a shy smile towards Sherlock hoping to get his attention. Unfortunately for the small woman his attention was directed at the door where Amber could be seen pacing and talking, her face twisted in sadness and anger.

Sherlock stood, beginning to gather his things and turning off equipment. "I believe we won't be here much longer."

"Why?" John and Molly asked in unison.

As if on cue Amber walked back in, phone in hand, her facial expression and voice strained. "I just got a call from Lestrade. There has been another murder."

"In the alley?" Sherlock asked having noticed she left out that part.

She shook her head. "No, not in the alley but in the building of flats across from it. Same method and wounds." She squeezed her eyes shut hearing all three people moving towards the door only to stop before actually leaving.

"What's wrong?" It was Sherlock who asked, as if having sensed pain in her words and actions.

She took a deep breath opening her eyes to find Sherlock right in front of her. She stared into his blue eyes, feeling her heart beat pick up pace. She wasn't sure if that was due to what she was about to say or the closeness of the man she had found herself liking more and more as the days ticked by.

"What is it Amber? What did Lestrade say that has you this upset?" He prompted continuing to stare into her eyes, seeing so much in their green depths.

Taking another breath she said, "Lestrade said it was a child, a thirteen year old girl."

**Comments? Questions? Concerns? Review please!**

**Note to readers, Amber's costume is posted as links on my profile. Separate links because she didn't actually wear a normal costume!**


	7. Chapter 6

_Hello there again. I told you this chapter would be out in a few days and so here it is. I apologize for the short length of this chapter, but I'm assuming you can see why I didn't keep this attached to the last one! Other wise it would have been literally like 8k words in length. The next chapter will be longer with more of Sherlock's POV. Amber might also be meeting Mycroft...I haven't decided. Anyways, as always, feedback is welcome. It lets me know you are reading even if it's on a smiley face!_

_Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: __I do not own anything you recognize, especially Sherlock himself (if I did he would be a nothing but a sheet more often). BBC owns the amazing show and I thank them for it! I do however own Amber and the plot for this story._

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**Breaking the Barrier**

**[006]**

After Amber's announcement Molly and John stood stunned in their positions at the door. Sherlock stood there unfazed by the information as he continued to stare at Amber. The death of a child was never a pleasant thing to deal with and he knew that women tended to become a little more upset about that. He noticed that Amber was no different. While as smart as she was she was just like every other normal human; she was ruled by her emotions and that he could tell just by looking into her green eyes. She mourned for the loss of a child she didn't know, for a life cut short by a sadistic bastard running about the city. He felt tug in his heart, not for the dead girl, but for the woman standing in front of him.

Walking around Amber he went for her coat, picking it up of the chair and helping her into it. "What does Lestrade know?" He smoothed it over her shoulders letting his hands linger for a second. He wasn't a touchy feely kind of person, hated unnecessary contact in fact, but he wanted to in some way comfort Amber. That urge to comfort bothered him on more than one level. He barely knew the redhead who had essentially shoved herself into his life and the more time he spent around her, the more he actually began to like having her there even if she did annoy him slightly.

John was in more shock now that he had been when the man had jumped off of the roof of Barts nearly six months ago. He had seen Sherlock do many amazing things in their time working and living together but never had he actually seen the man help anyone into their coat. He was beginning to see a side of Sherlock he hadn't seen before. A softer more gentle side that had John believe his friend was beginning to developed what he could only call a crush on the redhead with her expressive green eyes.

Sherlock saw the sad smile as he came once again to stand in front of her while she was button her coat. "Thanks," he heard her say softly. He flashed a smile giving a nod as she opened the door allowing her to pass through first. As they walked she began to talk. "Lestrade said the girl was reported missing about two hours ago, having been snatch at a local grocery with her mother. About twenty minutes ago there was a 999 call from the building in which the body was found, saying they head what sounded like a girl screaming for help. Officers responded and arrived to find the girl still alive but only just barely. By the time paramedics arrived the girl was gone. They tried to resuscitate but couldn't. The paramedics where the ones to inform the officers of the approximate number and placement of the wounds. Scotland Yard was called and Lestrade was informed. He had just arrived when he called me in. Apparently Anderson couldn't get a hold me, for the one reason that he doesn't have my actual number." She gave a light chuckle. "Anyways I informed him that I was with you and he said to bring you along."

Silence fell as Sherlock went over everything she had just told him. It wasn't much to go on, just the basic details of what had occurred. He wouldn't know anything more until he arrived at the scene. As they exited the building he realized that John was behind them keeping quiet, which was unusual. He said nothing of his friend's odd behavior as he hailed a taxi at the curb.

It took a few moments but eventually a taxi stopped, one which was large enough for the three of them to squeeze into without being on top of one another. Amber gave the address somberly as Sherlock watched John looked out his window and Amber look out hers, him being stuck in the middle. He sat back and thought for a moment. Amber was a forensic photographer, a skilled one he had deduced having seen her work on the previous alley murders. She had to have worked cases involving children in the past, whether it had been with Scotland Yard or wherever she had worked before. Yet hearing that a thirteen year old girl had been killed had sent her from being playful to nearly depressed. He thought it might have to deal with the fact that she herself had been on the cusp of motherhood. Having lost a child of her own might have made her more sensitive towards crimes involving kids. Whatever it was she was going to have to put that aside and be professional. He knew she could do it having already seen her at work already, a look of pure concentration took over her face. He liked that about her.

By the time the taxi dropped them as close to the scene as it could Amber seemed to have prepared herself for what was to come. Her eyes were a little brighter, her face not as taunt. She left Sherlock and John to pay the cabbie as she strode towards the forensics van across the street from the building. She opened one of the back doors and leaned in reaching for the silver case that held the camera she usually used.

As she was pulled the case carefully out she heard heeled feet coming up behind her. "I see you brought the freak with you." The voice belonged to Sally Donovan, a woman she was beginning to hate just a little. "What were you doing with him anyway?"

She rounded on the dark skinned woman, not in the mood for whatever she had to say about her association with Sherlock. She had already been warned off by the woman so what else could she have to say besides something snide? "I believe that is none of your business." She snapped slamming the van door stalking as best she could in heels across the street towards the pavement. She flashed the ID she had put around her neck in the taxi and entered the building.

Even as prepared as she was that didn't mean she would be able to handle herself properly. She prolonged the inevitable by heading towards the station set up in the corner of the lobby of the building. She grabbed one of those god awful protective suits she hated wearing and put it on thankful to actually have her skintight outfit hidden from sight. Once that was done she slipped booties over her heels, opened her case to put her camera together, and then looked towards the lift. Most, if not all, of the team was using it. _Lazy, _she thought as she headed for the stairs. She was fit enough that the three flight walk wouldn't even wind her.

She headed down the hallways towards the room where most of the activity was centered. As she approached she watched John leave the room to lean on the wall in the hall. She had no doubt that Sherlock was inside still investigating. "Is it that bad?" she asked looking at the blond who looked slightly distraught and disturbed.

"A child was murdered. It's anything but good." It wasn't the straight answer she wanted but it was enough to let her know she was right to worry about her reaction going in.

Taking a breath to steal her mind, she caught the scent of blood, so much of it that it permeated the air. It was the smell of freshly spilled blood, that coppery tang that stuck to the roof of her mouth while coating her nose. She had never been fond of that smell but she was used to it.

She finally walked into the flat, moving towards the back room where everyone was coming and going from. She entered seeing Sherlock crouched over the body, a strained look on his face. While he might not have showed much reaction to the news of a child being killed apparently when in the room with the small body he didn't have much of the same reaction. It was either that or he was having a hard time figuring something out.

She felt the bile raise in her throat but managed to keep it down as well as keep herself from shedding a tear for the girl laying dead not more than ten feet away. Lestrade met her halfway to the body. "Are you going to be alright here? Have dealt with children before?" It was implied what he meant by dealing with children so she nodded. "Nothing like this though?" She shook her head.

"I'll be fine Lestrade, just let me do my job."

He gave a nod. "Anderson has already marked some things and photographs of the body have been taken but I'd like a few more." When she nodded he gave her the go ahead to make her own circuit around the room to find anything that might have been useful as well as take the pictures of things already marked, like the muddy footsteps left behind and what appeared to be a bloody glove mark on the windowsill leading to the fire escape.

She avoided Sherlock and the body as much as she could at first but when she could find nothing else she stood back waiting for Sherlock to finish. Despite the circumstances of the scene she found herself wanting to snap a photo of him but she knew that was inappropriate at the moment. He eventually stood up, gave her a hard look and then began to look around the room, forming connections and conclusions she knew only he could figure out. She approached the body of the girl and actually looked at her, not just seeing her as a victim. She had been dressed in a costume, a witch from the looks of it. The hat was missing which could either mean that the killer had taken it or it hadn't been on the girl's head to begin with. Her eyes were closed, something the paramedics had done out of respect for the dead.

She then looked at the wound, photographing as she went using a small measuring stick to get the accurate length of each wound. She worse gloves of course, as did everyone involved. The girl's wrists were slit, blood pooled around her like it had been around the other bodies. Both sides of her neck had been cut, not as deep as the other victims but enough to help the girl bleed out, her blond hair was stained red with it. The rest were stab wounds to vital points on the young girl's body, hidden under the clothing only to be seen by the blood soaking through the fabric of the costume. Amber made sure to photograph everything she could see, knowing full well she might have to revisit the body in the morgue.

When she was done she tried not to look as if she was fleeing the room, walking at a normal pace while in her mind she was shouting 'run, run, run'. Outside the flat she leaned opposite of John with her eyes clenched as tightly shut as they could without it hurting but all she could see was the girl's blond hair and rounded face twisted in pain and covered in blood. The girl hadn't even hit puberty judging by the looks of her. She had been thin and tall and from the cotton candy pink nail polish she had been nothing but a child and girly.

"Why?" She asked no one in particular, more to herself really. To anyone who would listen she said, "All the other victims have been adults over thirty from the middle and upper class. Why would this bastard kill a child? And why in this building?"

"Good questions," Sherlock said coming out of the room pulling of his gloves. He looked slightly angry, a little upset, and more than a little puzzled. Lestrade came out moments later to stand with the trio. "I can tell you the killer is male, UK size 10 shoe, six foot three inches give or take an inch judging by the stride with a medium build. He was smart enough to wear gloves but put nothing over his shoes. He left clear tracks on the carpet. With the mud I should be able to track down where he has been in the last twenty four hours but that won't be of much help at the time being. We don't know what he looks like yet either." Sherlock stopped before turning to Lestrade. "Does this building have cameras?"

"It does but according to security they haven't worked in the last three days. The owner of the building has been trying to get someone in to fix them but hasn't been able to find anyone. So there is no way to see who has come and gone in the last twelve hours." He flipped through his notepad to make sure he was right.

"So there was no video evidence," Amber spoke up, her voice slightly hoarse but steady. "The bastard must have known that the cameras weren't working. You need to look at every male tenant in this building as well as anyone who has worked here in the past week."

"Good Amber, very good." Sherlock stated with a proud smile thrown her way. "Now what do we know of the girl's kidnapping?"

"I have officers with the mother now down at the Yard if you'd like to go talk to her. She can give you all the details of what happened." Lestrade said, his notebook having been tucked away.

"What about her father?" Amber was the one that asked before Sherlock could open his mouth.

Lestrade gave a troubled sigh. "The father has been missing for six months, ran off according to the mother. He hasn't been seen or heard of since. I've already put out an APW so if he shows up anywhere in the city we'll know it."

Sherlock gave a nod of approval. "John, we should go talk to the mother, see if I can learn anything else. Amber,"

She held up her hand to stop his train of thought. "I have work to do here Sherlock. I can't go gallivanting off to help you interrogate the poor woman who just lost her daughter." She all but snapped.

"What I was going to say was if we don't get a chance to talk anymore tonight I will see you tomorrow if that's alright with you." He was careful with his tone, sensing her agitation.

The woman ran a hand through her hair giving off a sigh. "I apologize for my outburst. This—I've—," she took a deep breath. "I've seen children murdered before, I've seen their lifeless bodies but usually they have been killed by less violent means."

"Amber you should just go home if this is really bothering you," Lestrade put a hand on her shoulder getting her attention.

She shook her head. "I was on the case with you when the first victim was found and I sure as hell am not going to be chased off this case now. I'll get back to the lab and analyze the photographs. The killer has never left any evidence behind so what we have here can only help us."

"We can't be sure if he actually left any evidence behind. The victims have been found in the alley anywhere between five to twenty four hours after the crime which can, with the rain, wipe away a lot of evidence. This is the first time a victim has been found somewhere besides the alley." Lestrade mentioned.

"Hold on," Amber said pushing off the wall to pace a little. "The three previous victims were found in the alley, correct?" When everyone nodded she continued. "Each body was found after a rain storm as well, almost all blood washed away save for what was under the body. Do you believe that the killer could have specifically planned for that to happen? You know like watched the news to get the weather or something?"

"It is possible but like you already pointed out each victim was from a specific age group as well as economic class. That would mean the killer has followed these people for several days, possibly weeks, before find the right time to attack and kill them. He wouldn't be able to just pluck someone off the street and have them all be of the same age and class. Then there is the question of why the girl?" Sherlock continued on watching Amber as she paced in short circles in the tight hallway, her camera still around her neck as if forgotten for the time being. He was enjoying the fact that her mind was running in the same direction of his, even if it were only in questions.

She stopped short to look at Sherlock. "You have to question the mother, she might have caught a glimpse of the man who took her daughter."

He gave her a dull look, having already figured this out even before entering the flat where the girl's body was found. "I'm well aware of this Amber. Can we go now or shall we waste more time talking?"

She slapped his arm lightly before turning to Lestrade. "Am I going to be needed or can I head back to the lab?"

"Go and take these two with you," he pointed at John and Sherlock. "Let me know if any of you learn anything."

"Will do," Amber gave a salute as the three of them headed for the lift. She still had her camera around her neck, the suit covering her outfit, and the booties on her feet. While they were alone in the lift she handed the camera to John and used Sherlock as a counterweight as she removed the paper booties from her heels. "Thanks," she mumbled letting go of Sherlock's arm than slipping out of the cover suit wadding it up and trading that with John for her camera.

For the rest of the quick ride down to the ground floor they stood in someone awkward silence. When the doors dinged open Amber was the first through the nearly barreling through Anderson and several other people. She apologized with wide eyes as she attempted to act calm while approaching her discarded camera case. She made sure everything was in order before leaving the building.

Once out in the cold air she could breath again but even then she could still smell the copper tinge of blood in her nose and mouth. She knew it would take days for that smell to finally flee her sinuses but until then she was going to have to chase it away with the strong scent of coffee and candles and maybe some alcohol.

"Shall we share a taxi again?" Sherlock asked, hands clasped behind his back.

"It would be cheaper that way," John added as if he knew that Amber needed some prodding that Sherlock wouldn't give. "I doubt walking in those shoes would feel good."

"I suppose a taxi would save me a lot of pain in the coming days and money currently." They headed away from the scene ducking beneath the police tape. To catch a taxi Amber advised them that it would be easier if they walked a couple of streets down where there was a less of a crowd gathering. It took several minutes for a taxi to stop but once one did they all crammed into the car, Sherlock telling the cabbie where they needed to go. No one spoke as they were drive to Scotland Yard.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Review please!**

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**_A/N: Soooooooo lets just say that boredom, insomnia, and a ten hour marathon of all the episodes of Sherlock my damn muse(or plot bunny as I more commonly refer to it) has struck. So in the next week I will be writing up several chapters for this story. I will then attempt to appease my plot bunny and work on another Sherlock/OC fic. I WILL NOT BE ABANDONING THIS STORY! I love this story so much I will not let it go. I believe I can write more than one story in this fandom as long as I make some sort of schedule. Anyways I'll give you more of an update on that story as I begin to work on that project, if it even gets off the ground._  
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**_I have a basic summary if any of you are interested in reading that. Let me know (in a PM or review) and I'll post it at the end of the next chapter! _**

**_Bye bye for now. And please remember to review!_**

**__****Note to readers, Amber's costume is posted as links on my profile. Separate links because she didn't actually wear a normal costume!**


	8. Chapter 7

_Hello there once more! Chapter seven or is it eight? Either way it's a new chapter lol. I want to say thank you to anyone who is reading this story. And extra thanks to those who put me on their alert/favorite list, and last of all I wanted to thank anyone who has reviewed in the past. I really do enjoy reviews, they actually let me know that you guys are reading what I am writing! So please review even if it is only a :). _

_So everyone enjoy. The next few chapters are going to get away from the original case I presented and get more into the budding romance between Amber and Sherlock, which will start to form more in the next few chapters. You'll see. Things will get light and fluffy for a while as well :D_

_TheGirlWhoImagined: Thanks for the reviews on the last few chapters. :) They made my day!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognize, especially Sherlock himself (if I did he would be a nothing but a sheet more often). BBC owns the amazing show and I thank them for it! I do however own Amber and the plot for this story._

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**Breaking the Barrier**

**[007]**

Sherlock and John had questioned many witnesses and victims throughout the short couple of years they had worked together but, to date, they had never dealt with a mother who had lost a child. Sherlock knew that this interview would not be easy. Woman tended to be emotional when something like this happened, even if it wasn't their child or even if it wasn't a violent crime such as this. He had realized in his thirty something years of life that woman, in general, had a tendency to be overly emotional beings. He didn't know why and frankly he figured he never would.

He had been warned, by John and just about every officer he had run into, to be careful with the woman. She had already broken down when she got word that her daughter's body had been found, no one wanted her to do something she would later regret, like attacking Sherlock. A few people had said that seeing Sherlock hit would have been fun because he would have deserved it. He had just scoffed at the remarks, ignoring them as he usually did.

Now he sat across from a woman who wasn't yet out of her forties, with long blond hair, bloodshot blue eyes, and a tan he doubted came from anything other than a tanning booth or bottle. There was a box of tissues by her left elbow and a growing pile on her right signaling she had been in that room for several hours at the least.

_Wealthy, _he noted taking in how she dressed. There were diamonds and gold at her ears, her neck, and even her wrist. Her wedding band and engagement ring were still on her finger, a large diamond the center piece of what he was sure was a pricey ring. All her jewelry were spotless and sparkling so she took care with her appearance. Her blouse was crisp, light pink, and fitted. The coat hanging on the back of her chair was designer, wool, and once again probably tailor made for the woman sitting before him. So the mother had fit the category of the other victims but it was the daughter who had been killed. Why? Well he was about to try to find out.

"Mrs. Amherst, can you tell me what happened leading up to your daughter's kidnapping as well as what followed. Please be prompt." Sherlock said looking to John, seeing a notepad sitting before him. Sherlock himself didn't need to take notes but he knew John did. The notes might be of some use later down the line.

The woman sniffled softly. "I'm sorry Mr. Holmes but why again do I need to go over this? I already told the officers all I know."

"They aren't me and I doubt they have gotten any of the facts straight. So could you please tell me what happened." He prodded, feeling a little annoyance that he was being questioned by a witness yet again.

"Aren't you the man who was said to be a fake and supposedly committed suicide six months back?" The woman eyed him wearily.

Sherlock sighed. He was getting tired with those questions. He knew that the article printed in every national paper in the London area had squashed the rumors of what happened with Moriarty as well as the resulting fallout. Apparently not everyone had been smart enough or inclined enough to actually read the papers. "Read the papers Mrs. Amherst. I am certainly not a fake and I clearly cannot be dead seeing as I am sitting in front of you at this very moment. This interview is not about me. It is about you and the death of your daughter Lillian."

At that the woman began to cry. The emotional display went on for a total of five minutes in which Sherlock sat there fighting the urge to tap his fingers on the table. John just stared at his lap trying to give the woman as much privacy as he could without leaving. Sherlock wasn't that polite. He watched the woman, trying to catch anything out of the ordinary in her actions. So far he had found nothing. The woman's grief was genuine so he knew she had nothing to do with her daughter's death and was just as confused as everyone else.

She finally stopped crying causing Sherlock to speak, "I'm waiting Mrs. Amherst." John stomped lightly on Sherlock's foot which only earned the other man a glare.

"You can understand," the woman snarled.

"Of course we do," John said before Sherlock could open his mouth and make matters worse. "We just want to get this over with as much as you do so that we can get the investigation underway and find the person responsible."

"It won't bring my Lily back."

John gave slow and sorrowful nod. "Sadly it won't but at least you will have some sort of closure knowing that this person is off the streets and can't cause any other mother the pain you have suffered."

Sherlock saw how the woman responded to John's comforting words and had the common sense not to butt in. He allowed the good doctor to calm her down so he could get some answers out of her. "You are right Dr. Watson," she mumbled blowing her nose despite the fact that she wasn't alone in the room. She throw the used tissue into the still growing pile.

A few moments passed before she started speaking. "Lily had been at a costume party with some of her friends. It was around seven when she called me to come pick her up, that things were not going as she thought they would. She did not tell me what was wrong just that she wanted to come home. I picked her up." She took a breath and plucked another tissues out of the box to wipe at a couple of stray tears.

"On our way back home I decided to stop so I could pick up some groceries. You know bread, milk, eggs, and such like that. I told Lily to stay in the car but after five minutes she ended up joining me in the store which was okay by me. I asked her to go fetch some tea and sugar since she was there. She took off. That was the last I saw of her." She gave a hiccup as a round of sobs took her over.

"When she didn't meet me up front I thought maybe she had just gone to the toilet. I waited for ten minutes and when she did not show up I went to look for her. I couldn't find her. I was scared, I called the police and here I am three hours later, my daughter dead." She shut her eyes and cried silently for a moment.

Sherlock continued questioning despite her emotional state. "What about your husband? Do you know where he is?"

"No," the woman barked. "I haven't heard from the bastard in six months. He got laid off from work and fled from home. I don't even know if he is still alive." She rubbed at her already red eyes.

He motioned towards her hand. "You are still wearing your wedding band and ring." It was said matter-of-factly and rather offhandedly as well.

"I was raised a Catholic Mr. Holmes. Just because my husband and I have hit a rather long rough patch in our marriage does not mean I'm going to give up on fifteen years of love." She hissed, anger now replacing sadness. Anger Sherlock could deal with; a crying woman not so much.

John kicked Sherlock under the table, having already sensed the impending comment from the consulting detective. When the subject of love and relationships popped up it usually lead to an argument between whoever was mentioning it and Sherlock. "Is there anyway we can get in contact with him, anyway at all? An email address even?"

She shook her head, still glaring at Sherlock in annoyance and pain. "I am truly sorry Dr. Watson that I can't be of any help but my husband, even as estranged as he is, would never do anything to harm our Lily. She was the light of his life. He can't be responsible for this, I know it!" She said with venom in her voice. "If you so much as accuse him of being involved I will walk out of this room now."

"We aren't insinuating anything Mrs. Amherst. We just thought that maybe we could somehow get in contact with him." John was still talking, Sherlock sitting there getting more and more frustrated as the seconds ticked on.

"Again I wish I could be of some help. I can't even let him know his little girl is gone." And just like that the woman remembered why she was there and the tears flowed once more.

Ignoring the waterworks again, Sherlock continued with his own questions. "Has anything out of the ordinary happened in the last few weeks? Have you noticed anyone following you or showing unusual interested in either you or your daughter?"

Through the tears Mrs. Amherst shook her head. "N—no. I've noticed nothing. You should ask the parents of Lily's friends. She spent much of her time with her friends and their families while I was at work."

"Any enemies?"

"None. I own a high-end art gallery and auction house in Central London. My husband was a banker. We had never encountered anyone who was angry with either of us in anyway, at least none that ever let us know." Sherlock glanced at John's notes, seeing that he had written and underlined the word 'wealthy'. The other victims had come from money as well, maybe not as much as he assumed Mrs. Amherst had, but enough that they had lived comfortably before meeting their demise in a London alley.

"I think that is all we need at the moment. If we need anything else we will contact you." Sherlock stood up, put on his scarf and pulled on his coat motioning to John that they were indeed finished for the time being. He walked out of the room as John said how sorry they both were for the loss of her daughter. He soon joined Sherlock out in the hallway as officers entered into the room to escort her to the morgue where she would put to rest that fact that the girl found dead was her daughter.

"The wealth has something to do with this, but what is it?" Sherlock wondered out loud as he made his way to the lift.

John caught up with him as he pressed the button to the floor where they had left Amber. "Besides each victim having some kind of money what else could connect them?"

"I don't know," he frustratingly said. "Lestrade needs to get copies of each victims' bank activity for the last year. There should be a link there, somewhere they shopped or went out for dinner. Any little thing could connect them all."

The lift doors dinged, spilling them out onto a bustling floor that was humming with activity. Sherlock and John for the most part ignored the looks and stares they received asking where they could find Amber Devons. They were directed in a general direction and soon found themselves in a secluded area in one of the far rooms on the floor.

They found Amber sitting in front of a computer, printed pictures spread out on the large table in front of her, the same pictures on the screen undergoing scrutiny by the redhead. When Sherlock realized she hadn't even seen them enter he took a moment to give her another once over. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. It was his way of learning more about her since she hadn't said much about herself since she had spilled what she had nearly two weeks ago upon their first day of acquittance.

Right now she looked fresh faced, nearly all traces of makeup washed way in the bathroom down the hall. Her hair was tied back with a black band, the one she always kept on her left wrist, something he had noticed since meeting her. Stray curls fell from the band but weren't bothering her as of yet. She was still dressed in that damned corset and leather pants, her necklace missing and her feet bare with her shoes thrown across the room in a corner. Her shoulders and neck were tensed, her eyes drawn in concentration as she stared at the computer screen. Her eyes were also bloodshot, either for lack of sleep or from crying a bit.

"Have you found anything?" Sherlock said gaining her attention. As soon as her eyes left the screen the tension in her shoulders seemed to melt away replaced with tiredness.

She gave a soft shake of her head, strands of hair falling to frame her face. "Nothing that you haven't already figured out. Same wound placement as the other victims, footprints that can only give us shoe size and a possible height and build. There was the bloody glove print on the windowsill and a few more marks along the railing of the fire escape. Besides that there was nothing."

"You never went out on to the fire escape." He pointed out coming to stand behind her to see what picture in particular she had been staring at. The image on the screen was the face of the girl. Why she was looking at that he had no idea. It gave nothing away besides the fact that the girl was young and dead.

"Correct. Micheals stopped in to give me the rest of the photos, the ones he took before I arrived. He apparently took most of the photographs from around the building for any trace evidence only finding the blood from the girl and the same footprints." She rolled her shoulders before leaning back into the chair looking up to Sherlock. "How did things go with the mother?"

"She wasn't of much help." Sherlock said sparing her a glace before looking back to the screen. "Care to allow me to look through the photos?"

Pushing back her chair she got up allowing him to take her seat. She took the time to stretch and yawn. "So Mrs. Amherst wasn't helpful? She must have been to distraught."

"Actually she was a bit helpful. We learned that she is wealthy as were the other victims. Why her daughter was targeted we still don't know." John said.

She tilted her head. "Did she happen to see who took her daughter?"

"No," Sherlock said from in front of the computer. "I will have to go over the security camera footage from the store she was at, both inside the building as well as outside. The killer might have accidentally shown his face without knowing it."

"I talked to Lestrade not long ago about that footage. He is having a hard time getting the owner of the shop to turn over the videos. He has to get a warrant but he's under the suspicion that there might be other illegal activity going on in and around that shop that the owner doesn't want noticed." She rubbed her neck giving another yawn. "He also plans on getting bank statements from all the victims for the last six months, something about the only link must be there since none of the victims actually knew one another."

"I will need to look over them," Sherlock all but mumbled as the sound of him clicking the mouse filled the pretty much silent room. The whole time they had been there no one else had entered the room but there was still a hum of movement outside the door.

"And I am positive he will let you look at them. Right now there isn't much we can do. This is more frustrating than my bloody stalker!" She spun on her bare foot to look out the window and down at the street below.

She stood there for several moments before Sherlock joined her looking down as well. "Lovely isn't it? How the world moves so fast not even realizing that there are criminals running around this very moment, some planning crimes more sinister than the last."

"People, as a whole do not notice what does not matter to them, until however it does." Sherlock answered. "You should go home."

She turned her face to look at him. Her breath caught at how close he stood to her, nearly as close as he had stood in the lab at Barts earlier than evening. "I have work to do," she announced hearing John clear his throat breaking her eye contact with Sherlock. She found her heart thumping in her chest and wondered when that had begun, when had her little crush which had formed from their first meeting, turned into what she could only call full blown attraction.

Sherlock stood still as she walked away from him, feeling his own heart beating slightly faster than normal and that feeling of lightness in his stomach had returned. What was it about Amber that brought about these feelings? The last time he had come close to feeling like this had been in the presence of Irene Adler and then the only reason was because she was just as clever as he was. Amber wasn't as clever but she was smart and observant. It wasn't her looks, he had never cared about looks, but he was man enough to knew she was pretty. She was unique, her personality was bright despite what had happened to much of her direct family, she enjoyed a good laugh, and took her work seriously.

"As you have said there isn't much to go on until we get the bank statements and the security tapes. You're of no use to me in this state." He finally said realizing that she was sitting in her chair, legs crossed carefully, her green eyes watching his every move as he had been watching her earlier.

"In what state would that be?" She cocked her head, a small smile attempting to play at her lips but failing to meet her eyes.

"About to fall asleep on your feet." Sherlock locked his hands behind his back, still standing by the window.

"How about dinner?" John asked both Sherlock and Amber. "The Chinese place on Baker Street is still open."

As if on cue Amber heard her stomach growl in agreement that it needed food. She chuckled lightly to herself turning to the computer, saving everything to a flash drive as well as the computer itself, and shutting everything down. "Grab my boots," she ordered not caring who actually grabbed them as she put the printed pictures into a labeled folder storing it in the file cabinet behind the desk.

When she was finished she stood up, still barefoot, slipped on her coat and was promptly handed her boots by Sherlock. She slipped them on while using the desk for balance. After she had zipped them up she gave a soft curse as pressure was put on both feet. "I am regretting even going to that damn party."

"Why?" John asked as he held the door for his friends. "Did you not have fun?"

"It was fun to see friends and family that I haven't seen in a while, especially Megan. I learned she's moving to London in two weeks but that's another story." She smiled now, it reaching her eyes with joy. "She's a nurse practitioner, stitched me up more times than I can remember. You'd like her John," she teased the blond man who only rolled his eyes at her. "But yes the party was fun. What I regret is my choice of attire. These heels, while well worn and lovely, are not proper for work or long periods of time spent walking. My feet are beginning to hurt." She sighed. "My pants aren't bad, quiet comfortable as far as leather goes, but my top is the problem. You cannot imagine the looks and comments I received after taking off my coat."

"I can imagine Anderson said something." Sherlock sneered as they weaved through small groups of people working and talking. She waved to a few but didn't say anything to anyone else. She pressed the button for the lift when they arrived there seconds later.

"Yes, yes he did. I resisted the urge to slap the lecherous bastard but I did threaten to tell his wife." Sherlock gave a smile at the thought of Amber actually approaching Anderson's wife and telling her everything she knew. He could imagine what would happen. It would not be pretty, especially if word got out on all the extramarital activities he himself knew about.

Sherlock spoke once they were in the lift alone. "I believe he didn't respond favorably."

This time she did laugh. "What mattered the most was getting him to leave me the hell alone and telling him that seemed to work. I still don't know why Sally and him don't like me."

"It might be because you are now hanging around with Sherlock. Neither of them seem to like him very much." John said from his spot in the lift.

"It actually has to do with the fact that Amber is smarter than they are." He stated matter-of-factly watching as Amber's jaw dropped and John bite his lip to keep back his laugh. "They don't take to someone being smarter than they are."

"I think it has to deal more with you than it does with me. Sally has warned me away from you, using the Moriarty situation as a clear example."

He shot her a quick glance as he watched the screen showing what floor number they were passing. "That didn't scare you off though did it."

"Not one bit. Moriarty was a criminal with friends in high places who could get away with pretty much anything he wanted. He's better of dead now and I'm quite glad you aren't actually dead."

"Why is that?"

"I enjoy John's blog," she stated simply as the doors opened. Both men stood there and watched as she walked into the lobby of Scotland Yard. She turned around when she realized they weren't behind her. She waved her arm at them in a motion that said 'come on'. "I haven't got all night. I'm starving and tired."

The doors began to shut again before they actually registered what she was saying. Sherlock shot his arm out between the doors stopping them from shutting all the way. They opened back up allowing both men to leave the lift while a duo of officers entered it with a thanks to Sherlock. He paid them no mind, once again allowing John to answer for him.

Amber was just grinning in the middle of the lobby. When they were halfway to her she turned on her heel and continued until she was out on the street. There she just waited for the men to join her and that waiting only lasted a couple of seconds. She waved for a cab and to all their amazement on such a busy street they managed to get one on the first try.

Sherlock allowed Amber to slide in first, he followed, and then John. This arrangement seemed to be a permanent one seeing as each time they got into a cab this was how they sat, Sherlock in the middle. He didn't enjoy being crammed between two people but if it had to be anyone he was glad those people were Amber and John.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Review please!**

******Note to readers, Amber's costume is posted as links on my profile. Separate links because she didn't actually wear a normal costume!**


	9. Chapter 8

_I want to give a big thanks to Chelsey-Jorax-Diggory for beta-ing this for me! You are the best. _

_Like I said in the last chapter I believe I have two more chapters following this one that will end this 'case' before moving onto something else. If you have any ideas for cases please let me know. I don't mind suggestions :D Take a look at my profile for what Amber looks like! __And remember reviews are welcome even if it is only a smiley face!_

_TheGirlWhoImagined: Death by heels...haven't we all gone through that? And to think the death by heels might not be over :) I'm glad you could imagine what the reactions where to her outfit. _

_bored411: I am so glad you love the story! It made me happy to know you're enjoying it. Hm I never considered Amber to be normal, especially with her background but I tried not to make her a crazy mess because of it. Her stalker, well that won't be revealed for quite some time but later on you might be given some hints as to who it might be O.o _

_Chelsey-Jorax-Diggory: Again thanks for the review and helping me out. It made my day!_

_Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: ____I do not own anything you recognize, especially Sherlock himself (if I did he would be a nothing but a sheet more often). BBC owns the amazing show and I thank them for it! I do however own Amber and the plot for this story._

* * *

**Breaking the Barrier**

**[008]**

When Amber changed positions in the middle of sleep she found herself falling face first onto the floor. She bolted awake hitting her head on the edge of a coffee table. She groaned, rubbed the now throbbing part of her head and wondered where the hell she was as she blinked against the morning sunlight.

She struggled to her feet, finding herself tangled in a sheet that certainly wasn't hers but smelled like heaven. She kicked her way free of the fabric, rubbed her eyes to clear them of sleep, and cursed when she realized she had slept in her contacts. One of them had now slipped off her pupil. "Fuck," she cursed more as she reached into the pocket of her sleep shorts coming up empty.

"On the table," she heard Sherlock's voice in her still sleep fogged mind. After first she wondered why he was in her flat, but it took all of three seconds to realize she was in his flat. She then wondered why she was there in the first place. As she began to fully wake up everything came back to her.

They, meaning John, Sherlock, and Amber, had gotten takeaway from the Chinese down the street and came back to the flat. She had run downstairs to change into more comfortable clothing before sitting down to dinner with the boys. Having dinner with the both of them seemed to be a regular thing, as she was beginning to learn, even if nine times out of ten Sherlock didn't actually eat. After dinner she had helped Sherlock do what few dishes they had gotten dirty while John had gone up to his room to go to bed. She had stayed in the living room talking with Sherlock about the case over tea. She had passed out on the couch and somewhere during the night Sherlock had draped a blanket over her instead of waking her up.

"Thanks," she murmured as she pulled out the contact from her right eye reaching for the case on the table. She placed it in the liquid and repeated the process with the left one. Her vision might have been blurry but at least her eye wasn't itching any longer. "Um, thanks for the sheet but you should have just woken me up and sent me down to my flat." She gave a yawn as she straightened her shirt and sat back down on the couch. "What time is it?"

"Nearly seven," he said still sitting the same way in his chair looking at her in that way that said he was trying to figure something out. She fought a blush as she attempted to finger comb her hair. She knew she must have looked a mess and she was sitting in front of Sherlock no less.

She yawned again, this time covering her mouth to hide her morning breath. "So I've been out for a little over five hours then." He nodded. "Lovely. Today should be bloody lovely."

"Would you like some tea? I just put some on." He motioned towards the kitchen where she could smell the tea seeping.

She gave a hesitant smile. "Let me go freshen up some and check on the animals."

"Mrs. Hudson gave them fresh food and water before leaving for a breakfast date. I told her I'd relay the information to you." She once again found herself blushing, really wishing she hadn't woken up on his couch. He had probably been watching her sleep now that she thought about it. While that should have freaked her out it only made her feel vulnerable and a little exposed.

She stood up plucking at the edge of her shirt. "I'll have to thank her whenever she arrives home. I'll be right back."

"Take your time."

With that said she fled out the open door and down the stairs out of Sherlock's view. He just chuckled to himself with a slight smile on his face. She was embarrassed, that clearly had been written all over her face by the blush that had colored her cheeks. She hadn't looked very comfortable after waking up, but he attributed that to the fact she had fallen face first on to the floor and then banged her head on the table. While it had been amusing to watch he had still felt a little bad that she had hurt herself.

He also knew she thought he had been watching her sleep. In actuality he had gotten up just a little before she had. He had slept only a couple of hours the night before, having not slept much in the last few days. Tiredness and good conversation had been the reason he had wanted to sleep at all instead of staying awake to see if he could find anything else concerning the alley murders.

That didn't mean he hadn't given her a glance or two before he had walked back to his room the night before or even when he had woken up. She looked so much more innocent while she slept, her face relaxed, her body loose. She talked in her sleep mostly in English but he had caught several words spoken in what he knew to be Scottish Gaelic, and most of what she had said was the nonsense of a dreaming mind. He had caught his name mumbled once before she had rolled over which was when he had left her for the night. While he was curious about what she had been dreaming he was smart enough not to ask as that would only embarrass her more.

As promised Amber came back up to the flat looking more awake and less embarrassed then before. Her hair had been combed, her face scrubbed, and he didn't doubt that she had brushed her teeth. She was dressed the same as she had been upon waking up except this time her glasses were perched on her nose. He thought, in her natural state instead of dressed up, that she looked even more pretty. Where did that thought come from? He questioned himself. He had actually found thoughts like that popping up the more time he spent with her.

"Good morning, again," she said sitting herself back down on the couch. "You haven't moved an inch since I left you." She smiled still even though he said nothing. "Did you get any sleep?"

"Less than you but I really didn't need it."

"Remember what I said the first dinner we ever shared together?"

"You ranted about how a human body needs food."

She gave a slow nod. "I'm about to repeat the same thing I said except this time it's in reference to sleep." He rolled his eyes but didn't interrupt. "A human body needs sleep, on average eight to nine hours a night at least for our age group. Some people need more, some need less. I can function on five hours pretty well as long as I've gotten full nights of sleep before hand. So like I said about food, you need sleep every night even if it is only a couple of hours."

"I don't need lectures about what the human body needs. I'm not like everyone else." He explained once again to her.

She just sighed pushing her glasses into her hair and rubbing her eyes. "I'm beginning to learn that. So you mentioned something about tea?" She prompted finding that changing the subject was for the better. She was tired of lecturing, he was a grown man and if he passed out in the middle of a case from lack of sleep she would only laugh and say 'I told you so'.

"Yes," he popped up, went to the kitchen and put together a cup the way she usually took it. She had been in the flat often enough that he no longer had to ask. "Here you are," he handed her the cup, smiled when she grabbed it, and took his seat once more. "Was the couch comfortable?"

"I've slept on a lot of couches in my life, by accident and on purpose and besides mine downstairs I'd say this one is pretty comfy. Could have gone without falling off of it and banging my head though," she rubbed the back of her head wincing slightly. "Pretty sure I'll have a headache later." She sipped at her tea. "Have you talked to Lestrade yet? I know it's early but he is usually in his office pretty early when there are cases like this, or so I assume."

"I have only been up for twenty minutes and in that time I had a shower and made tea. I was about to call him before you woke up." He lied. He hadn't even been thinking about Lestrade or the case when he had woken up and walked into the living room finding Amber still on his couch curled in his sheet. That was unusual for him and it had all to do with the redhead. She was beginning to get into his head. He wasn't sure if he actually liked that or not.

"Well by all means go ahead and call him now. I'm interested in seeing if he's gotten any farther than you have." She had a grin on her face that was meant to be teasing but came off a bit more flirty than she intended.

Sherlock gave her a thoughtful glance, curious as to whether he should be offended of amused my her statement. "I've gotten no where."

Rolling her eyes she set her cup down, crossed her legs, and leaned back into the couch. "Exactly, until you can get your hands on the security tape and bank statements you're at a pretty big loss. Sort of like the murders you dealt with a couple of years back."

"A little more difficult than that but yes, similar to those. Like the mistake the cabbie made in throwing away the case, this killer has made a mistake by kidnapping a young girl and possibly having his face on film. You really shouldn't read John's blog." He picked up the paper on the table.

She snorted. "Scared I might learn that you don't know the Earth goes 'round the sun?"

He snapped down the paper to glare at her, finding her laughing brightly at him. "Not this again!"

"This is the first time I've mentioned it," she managed to say before laughing once more at the look on his face.

Sherlock was not at all amused but Amber seemed to be having herself a good laugh, so he let her finish. When she was done she took a sip of her tea and nearly snorted into the cup. "I'm sorry but it's just how can you not know we go 'round the sun?"

"Something about his mind being a hard drive and deleting information that isn't important. Apparently knowing the earth revolves around the sun isn't high on his list of important things," John was the one to speak coming in through the kitchen door to put coffee on, already dressed for the day. Amber scrunched her nose, she wasn't a fan of coffee first thing in the morning.

"I suppose that makes some sense. Doesn't matter what we go around," Amber shrugged.

"My point exactly," Sherlock chimed in picking up his paper just as John came in to the living room taking his usual spot in his chair.

"Did you sleep on the couch?" John asked motioning towards the sheet still balled on the floor.

The question caused Amber to blush again, something Sherlock caught out of the side of his eye. He smirked behind the paper. "Yes I did. Sherlock couldn't be bothered to wake me after I feel asleep during our talk last night." She shot him a glare that held no anger. "Fell off the couch and bashed my head on the coffee table," she added. "Most interesting way I've woken up in a while."

"I can imagine." John got back up heading for the kitchen to get his coffee. He came back with a cup just as Sherlock's mobile rang.

He picked it up. "Hello?" There was a pause. "We'll be right there." He hung up looking first to Amber then to John. "Lestrade has the security footage, the store owner finally handed them over. He has also got the bank statements for the first three victims," he pushed up out of his chair motioning for John. Both men were already dressed, Amber was not.

Amber sensed Sherlock getting ready to ask if she wanted them to wait while she dressed. "Go on, you don't need to wait for me," she waved them off. "I'm a big girl and can catch a cab by myself. I'll be there when I get there."

"You don't have work today?" John asked pulling on his coat.

She shook her head no to his question. "I have work, I just don't have to be there until nine unless actually called to a scene. Don't waste time, just go. Surprise me when I get there," she shooed them off once more and this time they complied.

Once they were gone Amber gave a heavy sigh. She picked up her cup, grabbed for Sherlock's and John's cups as well and carried them to the kitchen. Other than putting them in the sink she did nothing else. She went back into the living room picking up the sheet and folding it. She left that on the couch because she didn't know where else to put it. She was leaving as Mrs. Hudson was coming upstairs.

"Where did the boys get off to this time?" She asked stopping Amber to chat for a moment. She noted that her landlady was rather dressed up for such and early time in the morning. When Sherlock had mentioned a breakfast date, she had assumed that meant the older lady was meeting some friends. Apparently she was wrong in her thinking.

"They went down to Scotland Yard. Inspector Lestrade called Sherlock and away he went," she explained leaning back against the door frame already feeling the dull throb of a headache.

"You didn't go with him?" The older woman asked.

Amber smiled a little. "I can't exactly go dressed in my pajamas now can I? After what I wore yesterday night I think professional clothing is a must today?" Her smile turned wicked as she remembered the reactions she got at work. None of them had been favorable and a few were quite memorable, including watching Sherlock's eyes bug out of his head for just a moment upon first seeing her. That had been fun.

Mrs. Hudson's eyes widened. "What were you wearing last night?"

At this Amber laughed. "A corset and leather pants, you know the usual." She saw Mrs. Hudson's jaw drop in stunned silence which caused Amber to laugh a little more before she explained. "I got called into work while having been at a Halloween party. I don't typically walk around in stripper clothing."

The woman put a hand over her heart. "You had me worried there for a moment." She laughed finally and pat Amber on the arm. "I'm keeping you, go change and catch up with Sherlock and John. Have a good day."

"You too," she headed down the stairs only to jog back up remembering something from earlier. "Thank you for feeding Rose and Nix."

"Don't worry about it dear. Sherlock caught me a little while ago and let me know about last night. I feel so sorry for that girl's mother. She must be heart broken."

"I don't doubt it. Losing a child is hard, no matter how old they happen to be." Amber said sadly trying to shake the memories from her head. It wasn't often they came back to haunt her but from time to time with cases involving children they popped up.

"You sound as if you're speaking from experience dear."

"I am." She sighed leaning on the railing. "I lost my son seven years ago. He was only a couple of weeks old and he passed from a heart defect." Amber explained in as few words as she possible. It was still more information than Sherlock knew though. He only knew that she had lost a child for medical reasons, not how old the child had been.

Mrs. Hudson pulled Amber into a hug. "I'm so sorry."

Amber felt the urge to cry but even as she hugged the older woman the tears didn't fall. "Thank you but it was a long time ago. I just want to help catch this bastard so he doesn't kill any more kids, or adults for that matter."

"I hope you catch him, now go." Amber wasted no time as she headed down the stairs. She wiped at a tear that trickled from her eye nearly knocking her glasses off her face. She shuddered a sigh as she entered her flat, which much to her surprise had been left open all night. She cursed at how careless she had been with her home but remembered that if anyone wanted into her flat they would have to have a key to the main building. Besides Mrs. Hudson, the only other people who had keys to the building were Sherlock and John.

She locked her door behind her out of habit and was greeted by her cat. She reached down to pick up the ball of fuzz and chuckled when Nix began to purr wildly. "I know, mummy hasn't been home in hours," she cooed at the cat carrying her around the flat. She gave her rabbit a scratch between the ears through the bars of the hutch and walked back to her room. She set Nix on the bed and turned towards her dresser and closet.

She shifted through her clothing finding a pair of dark pinstripe suit pants. She tossed them onto the bed, fished about for a navy scoop neck tee shirt tossing that on the bed as well. Finally she ruffled through her drawers grabbing a pair of matching undergarments before beginning to change. She slipped on a pair of flats before grabbing her peacoat, stuffing her keys in her pocket along with her phone.

Patting the cat on the head once more she left her room and then her flat, remembering to lock the door behind her this time. She even locked the outer door shouting her good byes to Mrs. Hudson. Just as she had left the building her phone buzzed. Pulling it out she found a text message.

Are you on your way? -SH

She shook her head and hailed a cab.

Be there as soon as possible. -AD

She sent the message, stuffed the phone in her pocket once more and climbed into the cab. "Where to miss?"

"Scotland Yard please." She smiled as she buckled and settled herself in for the morning drive. She heard the cabbie say 'alright', and then pull carefully into traffic heading towards her destination. Her phone buzzed again.

Good. -SH

She gave a half smile to herself ignoring the message not bothering to answer at all. She looked out the window through much of the drive wondering if any of the people she saw on the street would be the next victim of the killer or even if one of them were the killer. It could have been anyone, someone she had passed on the street, someone she had met at a coffee shop. It scared her that at any given moment she could have come in contact with a killer without her knowing it.

When the cab pulled up to the Yard she tried to smile as she handed the cabbie a few notes that would cover the price of the ride. She got out slamming the door lightly behind her. She headed inside saying good morning to pretty much everyone she walked by.

She took the stairs instead of the lift not wanting to be lazy since it was only a few floors. She was slightly winded by the time she reached the floor she needed but for the most part she was fine. She greeted an annoyed Sally Donovan and flounced towards Lestrade's office where she saw Sherlock and John. "Hello and good morning, sorry if I took too long," she added for Sherlock's benefit. "Has anything been found?"

"Sherlock has gone over the tape, twice. There seems to be a partial image of the man who took the girl," John said sparing her a glance before continuing on with the work he had no doubt been dragged into.

"I've got people downstairs enhancing the image to see if we can get a better look at the killer's face." Lestrade said while Sherlock sat quiet looking through a rather large stack of papers, make that multiple stacks of paper. "Right now we are going over the bank records for the first three victims. We're still waiting on those from Cindy Amherst."

"Can I help any? I did come all this way at," she glanced at the front of her phone for the time. She didn't wear a watch, mainly because she had lost several because of them loosening and slipping off her wrist. "Eight fifteen. That is if I don't have to go running around photographing breaking and entering scenes."

"Help if you want, it seems to be a slow day so far. The others can handle it." Lestrade said getting out of his chair to fetch one from outside the office since Sherlock and John had taken the only other free seats in the office.

She waited patiently. "Have either of you two found anything of interest?"

"No," John said. Sherlock only grunted his response shuffling through another couple of pages highlighting something on both. He barely seemed aware of her presence which was kind of a relief.

She shook her head eventually getting her chair. She was handed three thin stacks of paper from Lestrade. Each stack belonged to one of the three victims thus far and all of the statements she had were from six months ago. The others had the most recent pages, at least she assumed so. She grabbed a highlighter and got to work realizing that this was not her job description and if nine rolled around she would be paid for reading paper. She got a grin out of that.

An hour passed before she managed to finish highlighting anything that might have actually been relevant to the case. She saw that the others were close to finishing their work and decided to go get some coffee. She came back finding that things were being wrapped up.

John, Lestrade, and Amber began to compare notes while Sherlock continued to sift through the papers slowly paying close attention to everything. The three of them mentioned various things but nothing really added up. Little purchases from various stores, all of which were frequented by Londoners and not really out of the ordinary. Eventually the three of them noted a large sum of money going to a charity on at least two of the three victim's statements. Sherlock looked up, glanced at each of them and tossed a page onto the middle of the desk. "Lenore Hadley, the second victim, donated an amount of seven grand last month to the same charity."

"There is only an acronym of what the charity is. It'll have to be looked up." Lestrade said rolling over to his computer.

"Don't bother," Amber said picking up all three pages. "I know this charity. It's a group research charity for those with autism as well as a group that helps underprivileged families who have children suffering from autism. It helps with medical care for the whole family, getting them shelter and food and pretty much anything else they might need until they can get on their feet. It is a new group, only founded six years ago."

All three men stared at her as the room fell silent. She rose her brow. "What?"

"How do you know this?" Lestrade questioned rolling his chair towards her.

"Megan's little brother has autism. I've been donating to this particular fund ever since it started. Megan has been too as well as my family. It's a London based organization by the way." She shrugged. "I will bet my next paycheck that Mrs. Amherst has made a donation as well."

"If this is true than the killer is after anyone who happens to have donated, in recent months, to this fund. We need to get a list of all the donors." Sherlock said more to Lestrade than anyone else.

The DI nodded. "That could take some time though. We can ask but we'll most likely need a warrant. Most organization aren't willing to turn over a list of their donors."

"I can do you one better," Amber pulled out her phone clicking a few buttons and pulled up an email. She passed it to Lestrade. "That's an invitation to the groups annual gala this weekend. Anyone who had donated over a thousand quid this year gets one." She took her phone back. "I have a paper copy at home."

"A thousand? And you have an invitation?" Lestrade gave her a look that she clearly understood.

She sighed heavily stuffing her phone away. "Yes I have a little bit of money. I don't care to speak about it."

"How did you get that money?" Of course it was Sherlock who asked.

This time the redhead closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath. "The money originally came from my grandparents and it was a little over fifty thousand, since their wealth went to both my parents as well as my siblings and myself. After my parents died I got money from their will as well as the life insurance policy they had. So yes, I've acquired a small amount of wealth in my short time on Earth but not as much as you might think." She explained with annoyance.

"How much?" Again it was Sherlock. Lestrade and John gave him looks at such a rude and intrusive question while Amber just pinched the bridge of her nose bumping up her glasses.

"Maybe two hundred thousand. Most of that is actually in a trust that I won't get until I'm thirty five." She mentally calculated.

"Yet even having money you still work for the police," John said stunned. "And live in a small basement flat."

"When I said most of that money I won't get until I'm thirty five, I literally mean most of it. I think right now I have around fifty thousand and I don't like to touch that money often, mostly because I make enough here. I occasionally donate some money, use some for shopping and from time to time I'll dip into it for a vacation. I use my pay from here for bills and everything else then I put the rest in the bank. I chose to live in the small basement flat because I like it and was tired of sharing a flat with friends. I don't need much space. It's not as if I have a relationship or am living with anyone." She growled finding that explaining took less time than not saying a word. "Now can we drop this subject."

"If you've donated in the last year, your name is on the killer's list." Sherlock deduced quietly from his seat. "You could be next."

"Yes," she nodded calmly. "I'm just now realizing this. I'm also realizing that this killer has most likely some how gotten his hands on an invitation to the gala or could be staff."

"We'll have to have the gala shut down or postponed. Do you have the number for to head of the group?" Lestrade prompted.

She nodded but before giving him the number she thought it over. "If you have the gala canceled that won't stop the killer. He'll keep killing unnoticed. Have someone go undercover and you might be able to flush this man out especially if we get a partial image from the store videos."

Sherlock was the first to agree. "You are the only one with an invitation." His suggestion was clear and everyone in the room understood what he meant. No one was happy about it either.

"You can't be suggesting that Amber go undercover? She's not even a cop!" Lestrade was outraged at the suggestion. "I'll send Donovan."

Amber stood up with a shake of her head. "Sherlock is right. I have an invitation, the people there know me and will be expecting me. I am your way in. The founders might be willing to let you send an officer in but they would stand little chance of being able to talk to anyone. These people are as close-lipped as they come. I can, however, bring someone as my plus one."

"You'll bring Sherlock," Lestrade said before she had even finished her last sentence.

"Why Sherlock?" Amber asked staring at the officer as if he had grown a second head in the past few second. "I don't think he'd fit in at a black tie affair like this gala."

"He will be able to notice things that even you won't. Little things that might not seem as off to you as it would to him. He can keep you safe."

"It's not as if I don't know how to use a gun? And how the hell would I explain him to the people there? It's not like I can go in their saying he's my boyfriend or something." She was utterly exasperated. She doubted Sherlock even owned a tie let alone would fit in with the crowd that would surround them. The fact that if they did go undercover together their back story would have to be something that linked them, even a fake relationship with Sherlock sent a thrill through her that she found pleased her way to much.

Sherlock stood up getting Amber's attention. The look he gave her seared right down to the bone. She tried not to shudder as her pulse raced. "No, I won't be going as your boyfriend. You wouldn't invite a boyfriend to a high profile event. I'll be your fiance."

Amber stood there with her mouth hanging open as a blush flushed across her face. She felt the warmth in her ears and tried to quite looking like a fish out of water as she fought to speak. "I—ho—No." She finally settled on saying that one word.

"You still have the engagement ring you ex-husband gave you, you can wear that," Sherlock actually gave a smile at her discomfort and the blush that tinted her normally pale cheeks. "It is just for one night."

She regained her voice. "That's not the point Sherlock. You can't act normal in front of other people and everyone knows of the great Sherlock Holmes after your stunt six months ago!" She exclaimed.

"All the more reason for me to go with you. If people know who I am they are likely to talk to us. The killer might also make a mistake upon learning I am at this event." He reasoned with her knowing he had won simply by the twitch of her eye.

"Fine," she throw up her hands. "But this is black tie and when I mean tie I literally mean tie!" She grabbed her coat and stalked out of the building more out of frustration than actual anger at this point.

John put his hands on his knees and took a deep breath. "This is going to turn out wonderful." He got up. "Come on Sherlock, it's time to go shopping."

"Shopping? For what?" The taller man questioned in apparent confusion. He had no clue what his friend meant. Lestrade was laughing softly as he took his seat gathering the papers to neatly file away.

John sighed. "Clothing, Sherlock, clothing. This is a rich persons gala and I believe you'll need a new dinner jacket, shirt, and tie."

"I have clothing already. I don't need anything knew." Sherlock insisted. Lestrade was still laughing as if this was the funniest thing he had heard in quite some time.

"Come on," John tugged at the man's arm leaving. "Goodbye Greg."

"Good luck John," Lestrade called through his laughter as Sherlock was essentially dragged from the office and to the lift. Sherlock complained the whole way but John didn't relent one bit. The duo ran into a fuming Amber coming down the stairs on her mobile ranting to whoever was on the other end. Both of them got a glare and John swore he heard her say Megan into the phone. Something told the blond man that this was going to be a very interesting few days.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Review please!**


	10. Chapter 9

_Hello there all! I apologize for the wait. My classes have started and I'm just now settling into a routine. Also my beta, Chelsey-Jorax-Diggory has been quite busy. Unfortunately this is not the beta-ed chapter but I have gone over it a hundred times. The beta-ed chapter will replace this later on. Sorry Chelsey I just felt like posting this chapter, it's been a while and I felt like I was hurting/teasing my readers by not posting anything for so long lol.  
_

_Anyways enjoy the chapter, feedback is welcome even if it is just a smiley face! Also please be nice, no mean comments unless they are to help me improve!_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing but Amber, Megan, and the plot. If I own Sherlock...well I can't say what I'd do, probably faint with joy lol!_

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**Breaking the Barrier**

**[009]**

By the time Saturday rolled around Amber had managed to cool off to the point where she could laugh at her original anger towards Sherlock. She had figured out the root of that anger, finding it had nothing to actually do to with the man himself but more with what he had suggested. It hadn't even been the idea of him acting as her fiance for the evening that bothered her, it had everything to do with the suggestion of using the engagement ring from her previous marriage as a prop for the rouse.

That ring had, at one point, meant the world to her. It had after all come from the first man she had truly loved, or thought she had anyways. So while that marriage hadn't lasted and her ex had passed the ring still meant something to her. The idea of it simply being a prop for an undercover situation had made her more than angry. It had upset and hurt her. She hadn't understood how Sherlock could have been so insensitive that he would suggest such a thing. Then again Sherlock wasn't someone who actually understood relationships and the affect they had on people.

Of course it had been a call and extended visit from her best friend Megan who had calmed her down. At least to the point where she didn't want to punch Sherlock anymore than she usually did. Megan had been the voice of reason, the one telling her to just take a deep breath, to think about Sherlock's personality and how that might have affected his suggestions and therefore explain his lack of understanding. It had taken several hours but eventually Amber began to realize her friend was right, as was usual when Amber overreacted emotionally.

Now she sat on a low backed chair with Megan standing behind her, a flat iron in hand plucking at Amber's curls. "Do you think I should actually flatten your hair? You look stunning when with it all messy and wild."

Amber tilted her head back to stare up at Megan. The woman was the opposite of herself, in everything including colouring. She was a brunette whose hair was straight as rain, eyes a rich deep brown, and skin which held a naturally light tan. Amber was ivory white, with bright green eyes and copper orange curls. While Amber was observant and somewhat organized, Megan was scatter-brained and could forget what she had eaten that very morning. Opposite as they might be they were as close as sisters. "I've always worn my hair straight to these events. Why stop now?"

"For one, if I straighten it than you're hair will be longer than it currently is. It'll need to be worn up then. Kind of hard to hide an ear piece if you hair is tied in a complicated up-do." Megan tapped her head lightly with the warm iron eliciting a playful growl from the redhead. "And second I think your hair looks better in it's natural state, as I've been saying for years now."

Amber sighed giving in to her friend's whim, after all she didn't have the actual time to flatten her hair herself. "Fine leave it down, I just don't think it's classy."

"Come on love. You're a curly redhead, just tell everyone you didn't have a chance to get to the hair dresser." There was the sound of a plug being pulled out of the wall. "Messy is the new classy anyways."

Amber snorted and stood up leaving the living room where she had been seated to go to the bathroom where her stash of makeup was located. She knew Megan would be following close behind. "If my hair is going all natural than my face is going to be pretty much bare," she said pulling out mascara, eyeliner, pale eyeshadow, and a clear gloss.

"I hate you," Megan snarled playfully as she sat on top of the closed toilet pulling one of her legs up to pull towards her chest.

"Why's that?" She asked pushing a head band through her hair so she could wash her face.

Megan gave an exaggerated sigh. "You're complexion that's why. Your skin has been clear since year ten plus it's so pale."

"The colour is genetics and a ton of sunblock. I burn far to easily and it hurts!" She exclaimed wiping her face clean of soap. "I also took care of my skin, even back then. You, my dear friend, did not." She patting down her face.

"Until you beat some sense in to me." There was light laughter from them both. Amber was happy for the girl time, having been away from her friends in Sussex for far to long. "Are you excited to be going on a date with Sherlock? When you talked about him at the party the other night you couldn't stop smiling."

Amber blushed despite herself feeling the urge to shove at her friend. "It is not a date Meg, it's work. I've told you a hundred times."

"You're fancying yourself up, slipping into a sexy dress, and putting on heels that could possibly be the death of you. It's a date, a work sanctioned date." This idea sent the brunette into a laughing fit as Amber rolled her eyes fishing for her makeup bag in the cabinet under the sink.

"If you don't shut up I'm sending you upstairs to annoy the men," she thought about that and all the trouble Megan could get into. "Never mind. I believe you'd embarrass me more up there than you do down here."

Megan just laughed some more as Amber began to apply as little makeup as she thought was right. She highlighted her eyes with brown liner, and used the same shade of mascara so her pale lashes weren't too dark. She was opening her eyeshadow when there was a knock on the door. "That would be Donovan with the wires I'm being forced to wear. Go get the door," she ordered her still giggling friend out of the bathroom so she could have some peace.

The woman did as ordered coming back moments later with a very annoyed Sergeant Sally Donovan. "Good afternoon," Amber greeted as she brushed off the excess eyeshadow leaning closer to the mirror to make sure that neither eyelid happened to be darker than the other. She had made that mistake several times in her life and didn't like the resulting comments.

"Yeah," the dark skinned woman uttered. "Why are you doing this?"

Amber intentionally misunderstood her. "Well you see when you go to a gala that means dressing up and makeup kind of goes hand in hand with that."

"No I mean going along with this. You aren't a cop." There was a sneer in the woman's voice but Amber just shrugged it off. Donovan really didn't like her to begin with, no use in getting her feathers all ruffled over yet another comment.

Pulling the headband from her hair she ran her fingers through it making it slightly more messy than it had been. She turned to look at Sally instead of looking at her through the mirror. "If you'd like to take my spot I'm sure Lestrade wouldn't put up much of a fight. That would mean going with Sherlock though," she taunted watching the Sergeant's face pinch in disgust. "Thought so and this isn't my first time doing undercover work."

"When?" Both Megan and Sally asked as they followed her to the bedroom where she walked into the closet. She flicked on the light proceeding to close the door nearly all the way. She left just enough space so that neither of the other woman in the room could see her but they could still hear her. The closet was just deep enough that she could turn in a circle and put on her dress, as long as she didn't trip over her collection of shoes.

"It was down in Sussex Meg. Remember the week you went home because your gran died?"

"Yeah."

"It was that week. There had been a string of robberies in some of the local museums, each one having been hit at least twice before the department started putting people on undercover jobs. Eventually the officers working the cases realized that they looked too much like cops, even while undercover." The sound of her unzipping a bag sounded through the room as it fell silent waiting for her to continue.

"So near the end of the that week the detective on the case approached me asking if I would mind going undercover since I did have some police training in my criminal justice classes in college. He said I was the least likely to actually look like a police officer since I wasn't technically one. I agreed and we managed to flush out the woman stealing a couple of days later. Turns out she was a temp worker, like the roll I was playing and had no problem spilling her secret to a fellow temp worker who needed money." Amber smiled brightly as she exited the closet to two surprised woman staring at her. She didn't know if it was the dress or her story that surprised them. "So where the hell are we putting the wire?" Her eyes twinkled brightly.

00000

Upstairs Sherlock stood in the living room tugging at the tie around his neck. He hated ties. They were uncomfortable and impractical and pretty much useless. That was why he never wore them if he didn't have to, which was almost always. Apparently tonight was the exception and he wasn't sure why.

"Stop fidgeting," John chided for the hundredth time in the last fifteen minutes.

Sherlock stalked from the mirror to violently throw himself into his chair. Lestrade was in the hall on his phone but clearly the man was amused by the smile he wore on his face while talking. Sherlock was not amused, far from it. He was angry that he had to wear something he didn't feel comfortable in and angry that he'd have the police talking in his ear all evening. He didn't want anyone else in his mind but himself.

He also found himself slightly nervous. This wasn't the first time he had gone 'undercover' so to speak and he knew it wouldn't be his last. This was, however, the first time he was involving a woman in the rouse, instead of having them play an unknowing roll in what he was about to do. Maybe it was the fact that this woman was Amber and not someone he had just randomly met. Maybe it was simply because it was Amber, the woman who made his stomach flutter and his heart race. He didn't even know what that meant really, just knew that she wasn't like the other woman he encountered and he liked having her in his life despite having known her for two weeks.

"I don't see why I need to wear a tie," he once again tugged at the offending piece of fabric around his neck.

"It was either that or a bow tie," John chuckled. "Amber said black tie and that means the event is going to be fancy. Fancy equals wearing a tie Sherlock. She's even bought a new dress for the event."

"That doesn't mean I needed new clothing. My wardrobe already had the proper articles of clothing for the gala," he huffed sullenly.

"You've worn that all."

"The point?" Sherlock said shifting somewhat uncomfortably in his seat. Everything he wore was new, unworn, and stiff. It would hinder his motion if he had to do any sort of running that evening. It just didn't make any sense to him as to why he couldn't just wear what he usually did. Why had John insisted on getting him new clothing for an event he wasn't even legitimately attending for its intended purpose?

He heard John sigh once more. "The point being is that just because this is a case doesn't mean you can't look nice on a date with Amber."

"This isn't a date," this time the voice answering belonged to Amber herself. She stood in the door frame now, looking at both men who were seated in their chairs. Lestrade stood behind her, grinning over her shoulder as if he happened to be watching a very interesting television show with an interesting part about to begin. Both Sherlock and John got to their feet, both for different reasons. Sherlock for Amber and John for, well, the brunette that stood behind Amber smiling brightly.

Like on Halloween, Sherlock found his eyes glued to the woman before him. She looked beautiful, there was no other way he could explain how she looked. Her hair was worn loose, her makeup was understated, but it was the dress that caught him. He's seen stunning woman before, some more stunning than she was in that moment, but never had one actually caught his attention and held it so fiercely. The dress she wore was floor length and body hugging with one shoulder in a teal colour that made her skin look paler and her hair more vibrant. She wore pearl earrings and her former engagement ring, no other jewelry graced her otherwise.

After what felt like an eternity, Amber walked forward pulling the brunette along with her. Sherlock gave her the once over, figured out she was Megan and then went back to looking at Amber. "Everyone this is Megan. Megan this is Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade," she pointed to the DI then to Sherlock with a smile. "Sherlock Holmes, and finally Doctor John Watson," she finally pointed towards John.

"Hello," Megan waved to each of them and received two waves back. Sherlock didn't even notice her.

"Well don't you look nice," Amber said walked to Sherlock now. She reached up and straightened his tie, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She finally stepped back. "Thank you John for getting him into a tie. Was it hard?"

"It was either an actual tie or a bow tie," the other man shrugged as Amber just snorted.

"He made the right choice. A bow tie wouldn't have looked good on him." She patted Sherlock lightly on the cheek and gracefully walked to the couch to sit down, smoothing her dress under her. Megan took that as a cue to sit down as well. John sat, Sherlock sat, leaving Lestrade and Donovan standing there staring at the three of them in blatant disbelief and amusement.

"So how do we need to handle this?" Amber broke the silence in the room with a somewhat playful and amused smile. Sherlock still wasn't sure what to say to her. Did he say she looked lovely or should he just say she looked nice? Dealing with woman in a social fashion wasn't his strong suit.

"We have a list of donors, which you've gone over," Amber nodded at the DI. "So you know who will be there, some of them you already know from attending the event in the past others are new. You need to find whoever doesn't fit or isn't on the list. Keep an eye on the staff since they are provided through the hotel. When either of you find this person you will alert me through the microphones each of you are wearing. We couldn't find a way to use a camera that wouldn't look suspicious so we are playing this by ear and nothing more. You are not to approach a suspect or pursue a person who seems suspicious. Do you both understand me?" He ended on a serious note more for Sherlock's benefit rather than Amber's.

Amber gave a brief nod. Sherlock responded with, "Of course." It was clear he was lying but the DI gave a sharp nod knowing that nothing would come of him arguing with Sherlock.

"With traffic it should take twenty minutes to get to the Mandarin. They have a check in for events like this so if we leave now we should be able to get there relatively early." Getting up Amber looked around. "Damn, I'll be right back." She rushed off, holding the hem of her dress up revealing sliver heels of a neck breaking height. Despite the shoes she moved at a rather fast pace out of the flat and down the stairs. Sherlock wondered if she actually enjoyed heels, she had just been complaining about them the other night after all yet here she was wearing another pair of them.

John and Megan shared a look and a shrug of their shoulders as Sherlock stood, gathered his coat and headed down the stairs followed by pretty much everyone else in the building. The only one absent from the melee was Mrs. Hudson who had decided she wouldn't be needed and gone out for the evening.

He waited outside in the cold fall night. A sleek black car, reminiscent of what his brother used for transportation, was parked on the street in front of the building. It had been rented by Amber for the evening. He knew this because the Scotland Yard would not have allowed any money to be spent on such an amenity despite the status of this being an undercover operation. That left Amber to be the one renting the car. If this was going to work, Sherlock knew that taking this car would help paint Amber and himself as an innocent couple out for the night, not a couple of people working for the police. The redhead kept proving herself more intelligent as the days went by.

"Sorry," he heard Amber's voice, turning slightly to see her now wearing a black pleated peacoat over her dress to ward off the cold. She even had a small clutch with a strap around her wrist. "Ready?" She questioned with a somewhat nervous smile.

"Yes, of course," Sherlock opened the door for her. She slipped in still smiling all the while watching him. Once they were both inside the car Lestrade took hold of the door to lean in so he could speak with both of them.

"Don't do anything stupid," he ordered giving Sherlock a glare, implying that he wasn't worried about Amber so much as the man who was supposed to be keeping her safe. "If anything goes wrong don't be afraid to leave," that was directed at Amber because he knew Sherlock wouldn't leave even if it came down to his life being threatened.

"Will do," she gave a mock salute grinning now as she received an eye roll from the DI.

"Just behave." The door was slammed, the top of the car was tapped in a universal gesture that said the driver could go.

"The driver knows where to go and the van will be following behind in a couple of minutes. They'll park across the street from the hotel," Amber spoke to fill the silence of the car. "I'm sorry for yelling the other day in Lestrade's office. It was inappropriate."

"Of course it was." Amber blinked in his direction a couple of times with her mouth gaping. When he noticed this he decided to expand a little one what he meant. "I merely suggested a solution to help ease our way into the gala and you became angry. It was inappropriate as you said."

"Dear lord you really don't know why I was angry do you?" Amber slouched back, ladylike mannerisms all but forgotten as she looked at him.

"There was no reason to be."

She snorted, "My, you are an idiot." She found herself giving a light airy laugh of disbelief at the man she sat beside.

"How so?" He looked at her seeing a flare of anger in her eyes as they passed a street light. He didn't understand but he really wanted to.

She resisted the urge to rub her eyes. "You suggested that I use my old engagement ring as a bloody prop!" Her voice was raised but she wasn't shouting, not just yet at least.

"Yes and I see you are wearing it now." He nodded to her finger where the ring sat. As a subconscious movement she began to twist the ring around her finger. He knew she wasn't quite aware of what she was doing because she continued to do it even as he looked at her hand. He wondered why. Nervousness maybe? _No, she's remembering and she isn't to happy._

"This ring isn't just a prop Sherlock and having it suggested as one upset me. I wore it for years out of love."

He scoffed at the mention of love. "Love is just a chemical reaction. It has nothing to do with lasting feelings."

"You wouldn't know," she mumbled under her breath falling silent while looking out the window.

The silence left him to think about what she had just said. Did she still love her ex-husband, the one who was killed by a drunk driver after their divorce, or was it the memories that caused her to react in such a manner? It was true he didn't understand love. It made no sense to him. Love could be explained by a simple chemical reaction in the brain, the same reaction that accompanied lust or sexual desire. Love was also a social custom, one that helped pave the way for reproduction. Love was a weakness and it could get people killed. It had gotten people killed.

"Just don't mention my marriage again, or anything involving it. Things will be better between us that way." Her voice was soft, filled with a little hurt, but it held a tone of finality that said if he did mention anything again she wouldn't just sit there and take it.

"I won't." He answered though he was more curious about her former husband now more than ever. What had that man done to earn such loyalty from the redhead? _And why does it matter to me? _

Amber looked at him while he sat there thinking. "Have you ever been to a gala or anything of that sort?"

He nodded. "I have attended some over the years, for cases like this but never have I had someone attending with me." He spoke truthfully. There was no point in lying to her, she'd probably see right through it. "How many of these have you attended?"

"The founders have been hosting this gala since their second year which was five years ago. I went to the first three but I missed last year due to work. I hadn't actually planned on attending this year."

"Who do you take with you?"

"Before my sisters went missing I managed to take them each once to a gala. The one following their disappearance I went alone." She gave lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "It is more fun to go with someone, that I've learned."

He heard the tone in her voice, the longing and sadness as she mentioned her siblings. "You miss them." It was not a question but more of a statement.

She gave a slow nod rolling her head to look at him. "Yeah, I miss them. I think what hurts the most is that I don't even know if Brianna is alive or if she is rotting at the bottom of the Thames."

"After three years you still believe she might be alive?"

She shrugged this time, halfheartedly. "I don't know what I believe anymore."

When she didn't explain nor mention anything else Sherlock had to fight the moment of sadness he felt for the woman. Why did he feel like comforting her when he had never felt that urge before in his life? He didn't understand what he was feeling or why he was feeling it. He just knew that he felt for her and that he didn't quite mind it in the least.

He kept himself just as silent as she did as the car made its way towards the Mandarin Oriental Hyde Park Hotel where the gala was held every year, or so he had learned from Lestrade. He knew that the hotel was a high-end one in which the rich often spent holidays so it was only logical that a gala in which he had to wear a tie would be held in such a place.

As soon as the car pulled into the line of others waiting to unload their passengers Sherlock watched as Amber snapped out of whatever place she was in her mind. She plastered a smile on her face. To anyone but him, and probably those who were extremely close to her, she would look happy. However, he saw the lack of a spark in her eye, as if she didn't want to actually be there and was only playing a part in a play. He was worried that it was he who had put her in that mood.

Sherlock was the first one out of the car doing the proper thing and going around to help Amber out. They were after all playing a couple and it was necessary to act the part. As soon as her hand touched his he heard her gasp while he felt the shock run straight through his arm. In their two, going on three weeks, of knowing one another she had never actually touched him skin to skin. She had used him to help get booties off her feet after the young girl's murder but this time it was her bare hand on his bare hand. The feeling was like a shock straight through him. Like every feeling he had while around her, he wasn't familiar with the one he felt nor did he understand it. All he knew was that it was pleasant and he didn't want it to stop.

He felt the strength in that hand as he pulled her gracefully from the car. As she came to stand on her feet he looked into her eyes, searching for anything that would say she felt the same electric shock he had. "Thank you," she finally said keeping her hand in his as he shut the door with his free hand.

He walked her around the back of the car and helped her up the curb. He was concerned that she would trip. He still had yet to figure out how woman walked in those death traps they labeled as shoes. Yet Amber seemed to have the hang of them, even as he placed a hand at the small of her back to lead her into the hotel, as would be normal with a couple engaged to be married. "We've known each other for three years now, I just proposed seven months ago before the rumors and media coverage, if anyone is to ask. We met while you were in London taking a weekend from Sussex."

"How exactly did we meet then?" She caught on fast as to what he was referring to, understanding that in the kind of group they were about to enter they would need a back story.

"You chose," he said lazily, knowing that she would enjoy getting to make up that part of the lie.

Her eyes did widen with joy, the first he had seen since they had got into the car. "Oh, lets see. If I was on a weekend everyone here would know it was only to drop into Scotland Yard to see if they had received any more clues to my sisters' disappearances. So lets say I literally ran into while walking into the Yard. You were leaving and I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I spilled my coffee all over you. I was so upset that you offered to buy me a new coffee. We exchanged numbers and the following weekend we went to dinner on me because I stained your suit. In the end you paid and we've been dating ever since."

"Sounds reasonable enough, something that would have happened to anyone." He saw her smile with a little bit of a blush in her pale cheeks. "You're blushing. You seem to do that a lot."

She turned her head away from him for a moment. "I'm pale skinned and I've always been easy to blush. Lord I looked a tomato when I took a public speaking class in University."

"You speak well enough, why would you need that kind of class?" He questioned as she lead him to the check in area near the ballroom of the hotel. It was simply a podium with a man in coattails standing behind it, a slim book on the counter before him.

Amber chuckled. "I am in a profession where I have to sit on a stand and explain to a court what I believe happened with only photographic evidence. I hadn't been very good with speaking in front of large groups of people until I took that class. I believe passing out the first time helped some. Nothing more embarrassing than fainting in front your classmates and being rushed to the ER for a gash on my forehead." Her laugh twinkled as they approached the man who had watched them since entering.

"Name please sir," the man spoke to Sherlock.

Amber's brow raised as she cleared her throat. Sherlock actually grinned. She looked completely and utterly offended that the man would assume that Sherlock was the invited party and she the mere guest. "The name is Amberlyn Devons." She snapped lightly causing the man's eyes to widen in shock and embarrassment before scanning down the list.

"I apologize Miss Devons. I should not have assumed." He was almost tripping over himself. "May I ask your guests name?"

"Sherlock Holmes," she responded before Sherlock himself could open his mouth.

"Holmes? The man who came back from the dead."

"Technically I was never dead and yes." Oh how he was getting tired of hearing that. Everyone asked when they first heard his name.

"We're glad to have you both." The man smiled without saying much of anything else concerning Sherlock. "You are one of the first few people to arrive. If you would like to go to the bar I'd be more than happy to gather you when more people arrive."

Amber gave a nod. "That would be lovely," she said dragging Sherlock by the arm gently towards the bar.

"We really should go into the ball room now," he said trying to direct her back to the ballroom.

"People know who you are Sherlock and they know that you work with the police quite often. If we go in there now anyone coming in after us will see you. If the killer happens to be a guest do you think it would be wise to tip him off by being so blatantly apparent? He might just flee before entering. This way if he is already in there when we come in, he can't flee without looking suspicious." During her speech she managed to get him to the bar and was now holding the door for him to enter.

He looked at her, surprised she had worked something out that he had not. "You are clever."

"Thank you," she said with a flourish as she waltzed to the bar in order to get a drink.

Disbelief coloured his mind as he followed slowly behind watching her take off her coat to gently place it on the back of the chair at the bar. He caught a good look at the pale skin of her back as he walked up behind her. He had an unbelievable urge to run his finger tips over that skin to see if it was a smooth and soft as it looked. She was so delicately pale but he knew that she was anything but delicate. He had learned that already.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked as she slipped into the chair giving him what he could only call a lovely smile. Apparently they were playing their rolls once more.

"No, someone will have to keep you in check," he said watching her eye twitch as he pulled a chair closer to hers.

"I'll have a screwdriver," she said to the bartender before he could even ask. "Nothing for him. Thank you." She smiled some more as they waited for their drinks.

"So remember how you proposed?" She couldn't ask the question openly so she had to ask it as a girlfriend would to a boyfriend. Both of them heard chuckling in their ears, courtesy of Lestrade and his band of merry men. At least they had respect enough not to say anything until that moment. They both knew that everyone had heard the conversation in the car.

He gave her a thoughtful smile. "Hm I remember like it was yesterday. We had taken a trip to Scotland so you could visit your parents' graves. You were so depressed at the hotel and it hurt me so much to see you like that. I took you out to dinner and when dessert came I dropped to one knee and asked you to marry me. It put a smile on your face, I had never see you happier than in that moment."

Her eyes laughed now, even as there was laughter in their ears. Her drink was set in front of her.

"_You shouldn't be drinking Amber. You're on a case," _Lestrade's voice rang out above the laughter.

"It's one drink, it won't kill me," she murmured and despite still hearing Lestrade tell her no she took a sip of the drink. "Ha," she said enjoying the subtle taste of expensive vodka and orange juice. It wasn't a strong nor a large drink.

Minutes ticked by as they both sat there, the occasional chirp of annoyance from Lestrade breaking the silence. Both of them ignored the man until he mentioned something about more people showing up at the hotel, dressed in a similar fashion to both Sherlock and Amber. Taking that as their cue, Amber shot back the rest of her drink, which at that point wasn't much, paid the tab, and slid off the chair.

Sherlock took her coat, draping it over his arm along with his. "We can check those at the front desk," Amber suggested. He nodded and jogged off to do that allowing her to make her way from the bar to the ball room. He joined her moments later and they were allowed into the ball room following behind several dozen before who were checking in for the gala.

"Here we go," Sherlock heard Amber mumbled under her breath. Sherlock offered his arm to her and she promptly linked her arm through his and smiled to him as they entered the ball room.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Review please!**


	11. Chapter 10

_Hello again. Here is the next chapter...it's not full of epic drama like I would have liked but that will come in later cases. So I apologize in advance if this chapter sucks! Oh and if there are errors please don't worry this is being beta-ed...I just felt like posting it now lol. _**  
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_Enjoy!_

_Addy(guest): Thank you I'm glad you really like this story. Enjoy the update!_

_Gwilwillith: Love the pen name! And thank you!_

_neva-chanluvsmonsters101: I'm glad you like it!_

_Tibble: Here is more and I really hope you love it!_

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**[010]**

"Yes, I am well aware of this," Amber mumbled under her breath as she once again heard Lestrade tell them that more people were entering the hotel. He also kept telling her to behave and to not let Sherlock run off to play hero if the killer was indeed among the guests. It becoming tiresome and rather annoying.

It was bad enough she had to deal with her own voice in her head she wasn't to keen on having a new one in there as well. She was literally five words away from ripping the ear bud out and crushing it under her foot just to piss everyone off. However, for now, she would behave like the lady she was, rather the lady she was supposed to be acting like.

The gala had officially started a half an hour ago, around the time she and Sherlock had arrived in the ballroom. Since then they had been approached by several people, both young and old, who Amber knew only by face. There were the usual compliments on how she looked, the questions of why she hadn't attended last years event, and of course the curious questions as to who the hell her date was.

At first Sherlock had been just as uncomfortable as she was, though looking at him no one could tell it. The only reason she knew was because since entering the room he had kept his hand on the small of her back. Ever so often, when approached and questioned by people, that hand would tense and she would feel it. Her unease was quite easy to see since it was written in her eyes but her uncomfort could be read as shyness at announcing she was engaged to be married. She just kept her fingers crossed that everyone believed them as they spread the lies.

She was just about to suggest they take a short five minute breather when an older couple approached them. This time Amber knew who they were, Mr. and Mrs. Aldridge, the founders of the charity which was hosting the gala.

"Amberlyn dear, we missed you last year!" The older woman cooed pulling a now very uncomfortable Amber into a light and fast hug. She merely got a light kiss on the cheek by the man earning the compliment, "You look stunning."

Amber gave a radiant smile in return of their kindness. "Thank you and I truly apologize for missing last year. I couldn't take off from work," she explained quickly as if she really had to give a reason for missing last years gala. It wasn't as if she actually needed a reason.

"Oh don't worry your pretty head about it. I love your hair, so much prettier in its natural state." It was a double sided compliment which caused Amber to ground her teeth in annoyance. So her hair usually looked ugly? _Have to behave,_ she thought with a mental growl.

"Again thank you," she felt more than saw Sherlock's grin at her tone. She fought the urge to smack him.

Mrs. Aldridge glanced at Sherlock, finally really noticing him. "You look familiar, I'm Karen Aldridge, this is my husband Donald." She held out her hand.

Ever the actor Sherlock took her out stretched hand and actually kissed the back of it. Amber fought a giggle as he then shook the husband's hand. "Sherlock Holmes, it's a pleasure." He said clasping his hands behind his back smiling as if this was the most natural thing in the world for him.

"Sherlock Holmes!" _Here it comes, _Amber mentally chuckled as she glanced as Sherlock who did have that look on his face. That look that said, dear lord I'm going to kill someone. "The bloke from the news. The one who killed himself but actually didn't? How do you know Amber?"

"Actually she's my fiancee." She was relieved when no other questions appeared concerning the trouble he went through months ago. She knew he didn't like it being brought up, just like she didn't like her past being brought up.

Karen raised a perfectly manicured brow at Amber. "Really now. When did all this happen?"

Amber actually blushed, a proper response to the questions even if what she was about to say wasn't the truth. "He proposed seven months ago." She said wrapping her arms around his waist feeling him slightly stiffen at the contact. He fell into it rather fast, acting the part of a doting and loving boyfriend. Her mind blanked for a moment as she felt his frame beneath his outfit.

"Hm, why haven't you brought him sooner?" It was Donald who asked this time.

"We happen to be private people," Amber said simply leaving no room for anyone to argue, her tone flat and just asking for them to question her.

"Well congratulations Amberlyn. We'll see you later tonight," the couple gave a wave as they began to make their circuit to other people, meeting and greeting as founders usually did.

For several minutes following the founders greeting them, Amber found herself still wrapped in Sherlock's arms. He didn't seem all to hurried to let her go and she found herself blushing. She cleared her throat which seemed to knock him out of whatever state of mind he was in. He released her. "I apologize."

"No problem. It wasn't so bad," she admitted in a soft voice hearing once more the laughing in her ears. "Okay that's it," she growled pulling the ear bud out of her ear. She found the little button to turn the damn thing off and proceeded to stuff it into one of Sherlock's pants pocket.

As soon as her ear piece went dead Sherlock got an earful of his own. He couldn't hide the smirk that plastered itself on his face as he looked at the redhead. "You are aware you upset Lestrade?"

Her own smirk filled her face. "Oh yes, I really do and I don't give a damn. My mic still works and that's what really matters."

"Lestrade would like to know what happens if we get separated?" He was still smirking the entire time he was talking. Amber found him adorable in this joyful state. She was glad she was getting a chance to see this and of course to be the one that caused it.

Linking arms with Sherlock she just grinned. "Then we won't get separated now will we?" He gave a soft laugh before giving a simple nod in her direction. She nodded back and looked towards the crowd of nearly two hundred people, not including the waitstaff.

00000

Two hours had passed, two hours and they had little to show for it. Amber was becoming annoyed, especially since every other minute people were asking the same questions that dozens of other people had already asked. All the questions concerned Sherlock and herself. They both ended up adding to their story, occasionally even breaking out into small silent arguments. Of course all of these things helped their facade and people eventually began to open up and talk freely.

Half of what was said had nothing to do with why either of them were there yet they each listened with half an ear. They tried to be discrete about looking around the room and they had even split up for a while to mingle and chat. She doubted Sherlock did much chatting or mingling but she knew he would know if anything was out of the ordinary.

It wasn't until about two and a half hours into the gala Amber noticed Sherlock beginning to take interest in two members of the waitstaff. She allowed herself to look at the people he subtly kept his eyes on. Both were men in their late thirties, maybe early thirties if she was generous, both had light coloured cropped hair, a lanky build, and they were white. To her eyes they looked like any other person she would see on the street. Nothing out of the ordinary until one of them stared her right in the eyes for just a moment. She shivered beside Sherlock causing him to look over at her.

"Are you cold?" He questioned with curiosity and genuine concern.

She shook her head tearing her gaze away from the man. "No, just a quick chill. Must've passed under a vent." She smiled at him before his eyes flickered back to the other man he had been watching. Whatever he was thinking she didn't know.

More time passed as they both kept an eye on one specific person. They also kept Lestrade and his team updated on what they saw or heard. They were told to be careful, to keep as low a profile in the room as they could and once again they were told not to do anything rash. Of course she couldn't hear any of it, only getting the play by play from a very amused yet annoyed Sherlock.

Amber wasn't to concerned with herself doing something she would regret, she was more concerned with Sherlock, as she assumed Lestrade was since he kept repeating himself. Like a lot of things she had learned about him, which had come in the form of stories from John and other various people, he often acted before really thinking. Or maybe he thought so fast it seemed that way to everyone else. However his brain worked it often lead to dangerous situations.

Amber found herself shivering again, this time she knew it must have been from the cold. There was no other reason than that. She patted Sherlock on the arm to get his attention noticing his attention was purely attached to that same man he had been watching not long ago. She watched for a moment as the man, a waiter for the gala, walked though the back doors of the room leaving for some unknown reason.

He started to walk away and this time she grabbed at his arm pulling him back towards her. "What?" He asked in irritation.

Amber sighed. "Don't do anything stupid. Lestrade would kill me if you did. I'm going to get my coat, I'm a little chilly."

"Be careful," Sherlock ordered before he strode off appearing to go for the bathrooms, at least that was what it would look like to everyone else. Amber just smiled as she weaved her way from the room heading for the coat check at the front desk. She was stopped once or twice and asked meaningless questions which were answered fast and easily shrugged off as she told them she was getting her coat because she was cold. If anyone asked where Sherlock had gone to she would just answer that he went to the bathroom or out for a smoke.

Even though no one asked where he had gone to that didn't mean she didn't think about what he was doing. If that man he happened to be following was the killer than he might need back up. If that man wasn't the killer than Sherlock was going to feel like an ass when he was finished following him.

Leaving the ball room she still felt that chill down her back. This time the chill wasn't from a breeze or air conditioning. She knew this chill. It meant something was off, something she couldn't put her finger on. It might have just been an overreaction to the fact that Sherlock wasn't beside her and that he was off doing something that could potentially harm him. It might have also been the slight fear due to the fact that there was a possible killer running around the hotel.

It was in that moment that she realized her feelings towards Sherlock had changed slightly. Since her meeting with him for the first time she hadn't known what to think of him. She liked him well enough, even got along with him when he wasn't being an insufferable ass but more often than not she had wanted to punch him in the face when he opened his mouth, a reaction she had been told was normal. She hadn't worried about him before, he had after all in the past two weeks worked minor and somewhat dangerous cases between working the current case they were on. Yet now that he was running off chasing a potential serial killer she felt a sick feeling in her stomach.

She didn't worry about people she had just met. She worried for family and close friends, those she actually cared about. Did she care for Sherlock? Surely she shouldn't but yet she knew she did. It had started like this when she had met her ex-husband and it had taken two months before she truly began to worry for him. _This cannot be happening, _she thought. Liking Sherlock was not an option. They worked together and lived close to one another. She knew he was pretty much married to his work so liking him wasn't worth her while. Any potential relationship was pointless. That didn't mean she wouldn't worry.

Approaching the desk she found one clerk standing there picking at her long nails. She appeared bored and a little bit envious about the noise and ruckus she heard in the ballroom. "Hello," Amber said gaining the girl's attention. She was young, maybe nineteen or twenty.

"How can I help you?" Amber was asked in a voice that matched her expression: bored.

"My fiance Sherlock checked my coat. It's a little chilly in the ballroom and I was wondering if I could get it."

"Do you have the ticket?"

Pouting Amber sighed. "No, he rushed off to the bathroom, to much to drink," she added with a whisper knowing that Lestrade must have been laughing. "I guess I'll just wait until he gets back then." She shrugged a shoulder and turned around, giving a false shudder.

"What did you say that name was Miss?" The woman's voice held a little interest now. As if she felt sorry that she was cold, or scared Amber would talk to her boss.

"Sherlock Holmes," Amber said leaning lightly on the counter.

"Don't tell my boss I did this. Just please bring me the ticket so that I have proof you received your coat back." The girl smiled at Amber's wink and nod, disappearing into a back room.

As she waited she heard a pair of footsteps coming up behind her. Figuring it was Sherlock reporting back with no news she kept her back turned to him still waiting for her coat. Out of nowhere a hand slapped over her mouth while the other grabbed at the back of her dress dragging her away from the front desk. She fought the whole way, occasionally being shaken as she was pretty much hauled to a hallway across from the ballroom, far enough away that no one could hear her even if she screamed. The music would play apart in that.

The hall darkened, signaling she had been taken to a service hall, one in which faculty used not guests. Her mind raced, her body fighting the whole way even as she pushed violently against a wall, her assailant within inches of her face. Her eyes widened as she realized it was the same waiter she had caught sight of in the ballroom, not the one Sherlock was busy stalking.

She just kind of stared at him, even has his hand snaked towards the one shoulder of her dress. Her mind thought the worst as his fingers slipped under the fabric catching the microphone wire and ripping it off. He smashed it with his foot. "Who are you?" He demanded, his voice low. "You work for the police. I've seen you at the scenes." He hadn't even waited for her to answer his first question.

She tired to calm herself as the man now gripped her throat pulling her off the wall only to shove her harder back against it. She choked, feeling her windpipe being pushed in. She struggled to breath, her teal tipped nails coming up to scratch violently at the man's hands. It didn't seem to affect him much but he did loosen his grip and she coughed into the man's hand forcing him to remove it from her mouth.

"You're here with Sherlock Holmes. You're looking for me aren't you?" She still gave no response, not even a nod of her head. She was once again slammed back into the wall, her head this time whipping against the wall sending a star-burst of pain through the back of her head. Little points of light clouded her vision as she once again tried frantically to breath. She was scared, more scared than she had ever been but she began to calm as her mind settled and began to work something out.

She was in high heels, heels that in the past had inflicted pain in a couple of men who had drunkenly assumed she was an easy target. Of course she had been arrested for impaling one of the man's feet with the heel but she hadn't been held after video tape of her be accosted had surfaced. She had to think and had to do so fast. She couldn't see or feel a knife yet so for now she was safe, unless he choked her to death. Oh she was going to be pissed if he killed her. She was going to haunt his ass in prison and hope to hell some man did evil things to him while there.

"Who are you?" he asked again, his hand loosening around her neck allowing her to actually speak.

"Amber. Amber Devons," she managed to croak out still thinking what she could do. She could stomp on his foot, but that would only hurt for a second and would do little to distract him. She could knee him between his legs but her dress was tangled into such a way around her legs that she knew she wouldn't be able to. She could scratch at him but she had proven he didn't care. She could scream, but he might just kill her if she did that. "Why?" She finally settled on asking him questions, get him talking while Lestrade figured out something was wrong. It would also allow Sherlock some time to realize she was missing.

"Why what?"

"Why kill these people? If I'm going to die then I have a right to know. It won't be like I can tell anyone." She reasoned watching his eyes narrow in suspicion. His eyes were hazel and she could see he wasn't dealing with a full mind. He seemed nervous, on edge which wasn't hard to believe. But there was something else there, pain maybe. Loss. She knew that look. A man who had lost something. "Who did you lose?" She asked, her voice still raw.

She saw the flash of anger, felt his hand tighten on her neck. Her own eyes widened with pain and shock. "I—I've lo—lost," she started before she fought once more for breath.

"You don't know!" He shouted. "You don't understand. No one can. None of you can. You have money, money solves things and here you are giving it back to one another playing it off as a charity to help those who actually need help." He squeezed harder.

She felt her vision begin to blur, felt the blackness sneaking up on her. Just as suddenly as her breath had been stolen from her she could breath again. She gasped as sucked in air, gagging violently, feeling her body become limp and heavy. If she survived this she was going to have bruises for weeks but at least she would be alive. "Te—tell me. I und—understand."

"How can you?" He pleaded. She was confusing him, she knew this. None of the other victims had talked to him, they had only screamed. She was different. She knew she should have been showing fear but fear was something she always lived with. She knew how to hide it, how to deal with it. She would cry later, hide later, when all this was over with.

"I've lost everyone. My parents, my sisters, my brother, my son, and my husband. I've lost it all."

"How do you—"

"I moved on. What's your excuse?" She snapped feeling a little bit of herself break through the thin layer of fear that had kept her docile enough not to attack back. This was not a good time to be herself. She could not be a smart ass. That would get her killed sooner than intended.

As she had suspected she was choked once more, less violently this time but painful nonetheless. "You'll be hanged for this. Whether you kill me or not you will hang." She sneered and instantly regretted it. He threw her towards the ground by her neck. She hit the ground hard, her head cracking against the thinly carpeted flooring.

She felt herself begin to black out, saw the flash of a blade coming down at her. She managed a strangled scream, actually shouting Sherlock's name. She heard what sounded like a gunshot than a grunt and another shot. She didn't know what happened because the blackness finally took hold. She didn't fight it. Anywhere was better than where she was.

00000

Sherlock had come back from questioning the waiter he had followed. He had cornered the man in the bathroom and had only learned that all the man was guilty of was pickpocketing the wealthy in the ballroom. Nothing major just stealing some money because, well, they didn't need it. At least that was what the man had said.

Letting him go Sherlock had wandered back into the ballroom scanning the room for Amber and finding her missing. He looked around to see if everyone else was there as well. No one, besides the two waiters, were missing. Nothing unusual really but something wasn't right.

Remembering Amber had been going to retrieve her coat because she was cold, he exited the ballroom going to the front desk of the hotel. There he found a very concerned looking young woman holding Amber's coat. "Oh Mr. Holmes. You're fiancee was here less than five minutes ago looking for her coat. She disappeared before I could give it to you. Would you mind taking it to her?"

"Not at all," he pulled out a small note handing it to her with a smile as well as give the coat check ticket to her. He draped the coat over his arm just as he heard Lestrade screaming in his ear about Amber's mic going dead. He stiffened. There would be no reason for her mic to go dead unless she had taken it off herself. There was only one other possibility and he really didn't care to think about that.

He jogged back to the ballroom, once more looking for Amber in the crowd. He asked a few passing people if they had seen her at all since he left her but no one had. He backed out and headed towards the bar. He didn't find her there either. At this point five more minutes had passed.

As he turned back towards the front of the hotel he heard the pounding of feet. He recognized Lestrade's voice ordering people around and knew that his team had entered the hotel, thinking the same thing he had early. Amber hadn't simply left, he had been taken by the man they were hunting.

Just as he was heading for the group of officers, who were now splitting into small groups of two, Sherlock heard a strangled scream from somewhere to his left. Dropping Amber's coat he raced in the general direction of the scream, several officers following behind him. Lestrade was a part of that group.

He ended up in a service hall and spotted Amber on the ground, the second waiter from the ballroom was baring down on her with a knife in his hand. Behind him Lestrade yelled for the man to drop the knife. The man just turned around, intent clear on his face. Sherlock felt a moment of helplessness as Amber laid there on the ground not moving. He heard the first shot and then the second. The man tried to stand but only ended up falling against the opposite wall, sliding down, and wheezing.

Sherlock rushed to Amber's side seeing she was unconscious. "Amber, wake up," he tried to order but she didn't wake up. Lestrade was beside them in a second. "She's alive just unconscious."

"Any wounds?"

Sherlock shook his head. "None, he has choked her a bit and she slammed her head on the ground. She should be alright."

"Get an ambulance, two of them!" Lestrade yelled over his shoulder before giving Amber a bit of a shake. "Come on Devons, wake up."

"Shaking her isn't wise."

"What exactly happened in there?" Lestrade growled.

He shrugged. "I do not honestly know. I had eyes on two men, both of which I explained to you. As one left the ballroom I assumed he was the killer since he went in the general direction of a young woman going to freshen up. Turns out that man was only guilty of stealing from the rich."

"What was Amber doing?"

"Getting her coat seeing as she was complaining it was cold. I do not know what happened from there. I can speculate however," he waited for the nod Lestrade gave. "The girl at the front desk said that Amber had asked her to get her coat from the back. When she returned Amber was gone. I can assume that the killer managed to grab Amber and pull her back here. He choked her, finally throwing her to the ground to finish her off. That is where we came in." Sherlock said looked down at the unconscious redhead.

After another two minutes Amber finally began to stir. "Amber, are you alright?" Sherlock spoke watching her blink a couple of times. Her eyes were dim, red, and confused.

"What the hell." She coughed as she attempted to sit up. Both Lestrade and Sherlock pushed her back down. "Hands off, now," she snapped weakly. "I'm fine, just a little bit dizzy. Is he dead?" She noticed the slumped body of the man who had been threatening her moments ago, at least she assumed it was moments ago. She didn't know how long exactly she was out. All she knew was that she wasn't on her way to the hospital, which was a good thing.

"No, just shot a couple of times," Sherlock was the one that answered helping her sit up. He didn't dare allow her to stand.

"Good." She sounded happy that the man was injured and not dead. She wanted him to suffer. "He's not stable mentally. I tried to talk to him before he went all murdery on me and all I managed to get out of him was the fact he things that this charity is just a front to make every donor richer, or something like that. He's also lost someone, most likely a sibling either as a suicide brought about by teasing or someone close to him was killed because they were different. I'd look into siblings or children." She blinked and found the world spinning. "I believe I have a headache." She chuckled as she leaned into Sherlock.

"You've got more than just a headache. You most likely have a concussion of sorts. You are going to the hospital for a CAT-scan." Lestrade said as the paramedics joined the party. Two went directly to the wounded man while one kneeled down to look at Amber.

"I am not going to a hospital. I just need an aspirin and some sleep," she growled as the paramedic began to ask her questions. She stopped him in his tracks surprising Sherlock but making him smile despite himself. "My name is Amberlyn Devons, my mother's maiden name was Briggs. I was born in Edinburgh Scotland on the fourteenth of May in 1984. I live on Baker Street below this idiot beside me, flat 221C. If that is enough I'd gladly like to go home." She rambled on as the paramedic flashed a light across her eyes.

"You seem lucid enough but one of your pupils is blown. You really do need to go to the ER Miss Devons." The man was kind and reasonable which made Amber roll her eyes but agree.

"I'll go under one condition," Lestrade sighed earning a smack on the leg from Amber. "I don't want to ride in an ambulance."

"This is work related Amber, you are going and you will be taken by ambulance."

"Then Sherlock comes with me," she demanded watching Sherlock give her a shocked look. "I don't like hospitals and I'd like someone who isn't going to cry because I'm hurt."

"What does that mean?" Sherlock helped her to her feet, she stumbled and the paramedic grabbed her other arm to help her towards the stretcher at the end of that hall. Two of them didn't fit down the hall and since she could walk it was only logical for her to go to the stretcher rather than it going to her.

"What I mean Sherlock," she mumbled as she leaned back onto the stretcher. "I would call Megan to met me there to stay with me but she is less than useless when I'm injured. She once had to stitch me up after a nasty fall last year on the stairs of our flat. She was so upset that eventually I just called it quits and went to the local ER for the stitches." She laughed as she was wheeled out of the building, her head spinning at the movement. "I love her but she's to much of a mess. So I'd like you to stay with me because if I do have a concussion I will be given a pain medication and I'll need help getting home."

Sensing a little bit of fear in her voice and knowing that this was partially his fault he decided to go with her. He tired to convince himself that it had nothing to do with the fact he was slightly worried about her. "I will come with you."

She sighed with relief laying her head back and looking at him. "Thank you Sherlock. You didn't have to agree, so I thank you."

"I did get you into this. After all I suggested you go undercover."

"Not your fault. I shouldn't have left the ballroom without you." She blinked once again, her head beginning now to throb, her throat hurt. "I'm going to have bruises on my neck as well am I not?"

He gave her a brief nod. "Sadly yes. They will fade though," he said as he climbed into the back of the ambulance as her stretcher was loaded into the back. A blanket was laid over her to keep her warm on the drive since her coat was somewhere inside. They sat in mutual and thankful silence as they were taken to the hospital.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Review please!**

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_A/N: Sooo yeah not as epic as I was originally planning but this is how the chapter ended up going...sadly not much detail on the gala itself...there might be more of those (none crime related) later on in the story. Haven't decided yet. Oh and when I ask for suggestions at the bottom of the chapter I mean that! I have no idea what kind of small cases to write for Sherlock and Amber to investigate so please if you have any ideas once so ever let me know! _

_OH and if Sherlock or any character for that matter goes OOC...I try to keep them in character as much as possible but sometimes they get unruly..._

_Until next time my dears! Which will be next week sometime lol!_


	12. Chapter 11

_Yay look another update. So..yeah nothing much to say at one in the morning...Ummmm well enjoy the chapter. Oh and sorry for mistakes!_

_**TheGirlWhoImagined**: Glad you find everyone in order and no one OOC. I think that is my biggest fear! _

_**bored411**: Hmm, I wonder why you haven't been getting the updates. That's really odd. I hope it doesn't keep happening! I'm glad you're enjoying the story. _

_**Gwilwillith**: I'm so happy you can see what is blossoming between them. I was worried it wasn't coming across._

_**neva-chanluvsmonsters101**: Glad you can see it now. I haven't had it too apparent but it will be soon...maybe! _

_Disclaimer: I've forgotten this the last few chapters. But as you know I own nothing but Amber, Megan, and the plot. _

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**[011]**

It wasn't quite two in the morning by the time Amber and Sherlock strolled out of the hospital. Well Amber wasn't doing much strolling thanks to a high grade pain killer and Sherlock was the one who had been tasked with holding her upright as he attempted to hail a taxi. He was just glad that Lestrade had brought a change of clothing from Amber's flat so that she wouldn't be stuck in her dress and heels. He had no idea what he would have done if she had been in those shoes, probably have made her walk barefoot.

During their brief stay in the emergency room the doctors had informed them that Amber did indeed have a concussion, not anything major but she would have a headache for several days to come. She was told if it didn't clear up she should visit her regular doctor for a follow up. Her throat had been looked at and like her head there was nothing major, just heavy bruising that would make if painful to speak for a while. For the danger she had been in Sherlock was surprised she was only battered and bruised instead of massively injured. He was just happy she was alive. She, however, wasn't happy to be out of work for a week.

Allowing her to wrap herself around his waist, Sherlock finally managed to wave down a taxi. He'd dealt with moving drunk people and people he had knocked unconscious but somehow getting Amber into the car without having her bump her head again was one of the hardest things he had ever done. He got her settled on her side and slipped in setting the bag with her former outfit on the floor while ordering the cabbie where to go.

At such a late hour traffic was rather light and the ride back to Baker Street was short. He paid the fare before climbing out once again having to help Amber out of the car. He helped her along into the building as well, her clinging to him in a manner that made him slightly uncomfortable. He fished her keys out of her pocket unlocking the outer door before watching her stumble down the small set of stairs to the inner door. He managed to catch her before she fell forward. She giggle, the embarrassed blush he was beginning to enjoy seeing popping up on her cheeks. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," he muttered opening the door before them as well and releasing her into her flat. He knew for a fact that Mrs. Hudson had taken care of her pets, two creatures that he was finding to be a hindrance to her daily life. She couldn't just up and leave for days on end without having to get someone to feed and clean up behind the animals. He knew though that at least a cat and rabbit were better than a dog, sometimes.

He followed behind her as she walked to her room, a little unsteady on her feet, but for the most part she managed just fine on her own. He caught her coat as she tossed it off, watched her toe off the flats she wore, and saw her collapse on top of her bed kicking at the duvet before snuggling underneath. He found it somewhat cute, for lack of a better word. She kept bringing words like cute, adorable, and sweet to his mind even when he hadn't intended to think such things.

"Sherlock," her voice was soft, distant, and sleepy, a combinations of a long day, pain, and medication.

He stayed where he was just inside the room, her coat now laid on the chest at the end of her bed. "Yes?"

"I like you." Confounded and at a lack for words he stood there silent waiting to see if she was going to explain or if she had passed out.

A minute passed before she spoke again. "I really like you and I had fun tonight, besides being knocked around a bit." There was a hint of a joke in her voice, a side effect of the pill she had been given earlier. He actually attributed everything she was saying as a side effect of having her mind blurred by pain medication.

"Goodnight Amber," he settled on saying because it was the safest. He closed her door slightly behind him as he heard her mutter goodnight before shifting in the bed. He turned down the lights in the kitchen and living room before finally leaving the flat, leaving the doors unlocked.

The door to his flat was wide open giving him the perfect vantage point to see the couple curled up on the couch. John was sitting slouched down, his legs on the coffee table and his head lolled backwards. A brunette, Megan he recalled, was using John's lap as a pillow and she was curled into a tight ball.

Sherlock walked into the room as quietly as he could. As he got closer he saw that Megan's cheeks were puffy, her closed eyes red rimmed. Her thumb nails had dried blood around the edges, as if she had been gnawing at them. She had been worried about Amber, that he could see. It explained the chewed nails, the puffy face, and the red rimmed eyes. It also explained why she was curled on John's lap after having just met him earlier that evening.

Ignoring his friend and the girl, Sherlock hung his coat on the back of the door. He entered the kitchen seeing a tea pot sitting on the only free space of the table. He touched the side of the pot finding it cold as snow. With a somewhat bored sigh he put on more water, dumped the cold tea, and rinsed the pot out.

Apparently as he set the porcelain pot back on the table it clinked loudly against one of the various glass containers he had scattered around. This noise caused both people in the other room to jolt awake. He even heard the thud of yet another woman falling off his couch. This time the woman wasn't the one wanted to see.

"Sherlock is that you?" John's tired voice drifted from the living room.

"Yes," he said walking back out to sit down.

"Where's Am?" Megan asked pushing back her hair and then rubbing at her eyes. "She alright, right?" That was followed by a yawn which she covered with her hand.

"Sleeping downstairs as ordered by a doctor."

"But is she alright?" Megan's voice was a little stronger this time, the voice of a woman who deeply cared for her injured friend downstairs.

Sherlock nodded. "She has a mild concussion and bruising to her throat and windpipe. Give her a week, maybe two, and she will be perfectly fine."

Megan gave a sharp nod in understanding before bolting from the flat nearly tripping over her own feet. Her footsteps could be heard going down the stairs before she raced back up. She leaned into the flat using the door frame as leverage to keep herself from falling forwards. "Thank you John for keeping me sane. I'll come back up tomorrow," she said with a smile and wink. "We'll talk about that date." She gave a wave before fleeing back downstairs.

Sherlock gave John a curious look. "Oh shut up."

"I didn't say anything."

"You don't have to, I can hear it."

"And what is it you hear?

John sighed hearing the whistle of the kettle in the kitchen. He headed that way. "You're thinking that Megan will be yet another girlfriend to add to the list."

"No I wasn't," Sherlock said with a yawn of boredom all his own. He might have actually been tired, it had after all been a long couple of days since it was found out the killer was targeting a charity. He didn't technically have a case at that very second so he could get some sleep, even if he didn't really want it.

"Yes you were."

"N—"

"Not this again Sherlock!" John exclaimed while coming back into the living room. "You were, but that isn't what I really want to talk about. What happened tonight?"

He actually found himself giving a shrug. He truly didn't know all the details of what had occurred that evening. He only knew that Amber had been attacked, harmed, and the killer shot as well as taken into custody. He explained this all to John who listened carefully. "So you won't know anything until Amber is in her right mind tomorrow?"

"That is correct. She will most likely go in to talk to Lestrade and give her statement."

John rose a brow. "You know her that well that you can say for certain she will go in tomorrow to give a statement?"

"We've learned a lot about Amber in the last couple of weeks and she does not to seem to be the type to put things off." Sherlock said simply knowing that John knew that was true. Amber had spilled her life story to them that night of the first day they met, even when she could have just let things be and hid her stalker problem. She hadn't, giving him the impression she was not the waiting kind of woman.

"True," John conceded reluctantly.

They ended up sitting there in silence for quite a while. Sherlock was off in his own little world at this point, still trying to understand why Amber would say what she had before going to sleep. She said she liked him, really liked him. He wasn't naïve and he wasn't stupid. He knew what she had meant by that. She liked him, not as in a how a friend would like a friend but in the way a woman felt about a man. She liked him romantically and that thought truly scared him. Why? Because he was beginning to think he liked her as well. She brought all sorts of unknown feelings to him when she was around. His heart would beat faster, his pulse would pick up, and his stomach would get a fluttering feeling whenever he saw her. He wanted to comfort her when she became upset, like Halloween when she had been sad that the child had been killed. He had worried about her when he learned she wasn't in the ballroom of the hotel and seeing her on the ground not moving scared him just as much as seeing the bomb jacket on John that fatefully evening at the pool where they met Moriarty.

John tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. "You look upset."

"Hm," Sherlock said offhandedly before registering what he had heard. "Oh nothing, just something Amber said."

"That would be?" He prompted knowing that otherwise Sherlock would never say anything. Sometimes it took a little prodding to get the other man to speak, especially if it was personal rather than something concerning a case.

"Before she went to sleep she muttered that she liked me." He sounded oddly unsure as he spoke which shocked John into staring, his jaw hanging open. "Not only did she say that she liked me but she used the qualifier really."

For several minutes they sat there saying nothing to one another. Sherlock was still thinking and John was a little befuddled but amused. Seeing Sherlock out of his element was funny. "Well what do you plan on doing about it?" John finally asked, curious to hear what his answer would be.

"I have no idea." With that being said John just chuckled before saying he was headed to bed. Sherlock was left sitting there still wondering what he was going to do and trying to decide if he was going to do anything at all.

00000

When Amber awoke the next morning she felt anything but well-rested. Her head was throbbing, her throat hurt, her feet hurt, and she was fuzzy on the details about what happened after leaving the hotel in the ambulance. She knew she had a concussion, knew her throat was pretty badly bruised, and knew that despite her argument with the ER doctor she was going to be out of work for at least a week. Her feet hurt because of the shoes and she was tired because Megan had felt the urge to make sure she didn't die in her sleep and woke her up every other hour.

Rolling over in her bed she came face to face with her alarm clock. It read nine in the morning and she was anything but happy to actually have to get up. She had to though seeing as Lestrade would need her statement about what happened the previous evening. She didn't plan on letting it go any longer than needed and the sooner she could forget about the determined look on the killers face as he bared down on her with the knife, the better.

So she pushed her way out of her blanket and got herself out of bed. When she was standing up her head began to spin causing her to sit back down on the edge of the bed with her eyes closed against the dizziness. She'd had minor concussions before so she was thankful that she wasn't vomiting up what she had eaten the day before. What she felt now was even worse that the most painful hangover she had ever had, however.

When the room stopped spinning she continued to sit there and try to remember the night before. She remembered everything that happened up until she was thrown to the ground, which included the bastard being shot. She remembered Sherlock being there when she woke up, talking to both him and Lestrade as well as being told my a paramedic that she needed to go to the hospital. She remembered embarrassingly asking Sherlock to go with her and him agreeing, which even now made her slightly giddy. She knew they had been silent on the way to the hospital as well as while she was being checked out. She remembered when she was given the pain pill because she had almost started crying from the pain itself. After that things were a bit, well, off.

She knew someone had brought her new clothing, most likely Lestrade since she knew she knew she hadn't seen John or Megan after she left for the gala. She vaguely remembered being wrapped around Sherlock and getting into a cab. He must have helped her get into her flat but did he help her into bed or had she done that on her own? She couldn't quite remember and at that point she knew she had to have been not only drugged but tired.

It took her several minutes but it did finally come back to her and it made her gasp as well as shake her head with a giggle. She had gotten herself into bed, snuggled in, and actually admitted to Sherlock that she liked him. Not just liked him like a friend but that she _really _liked him. She had even said the word really when saying it. _Oh god he must think I'm insane!_

Trying not to cry from her own private embarrassment she stood up from the bed and made her way to her bedroom door. She fought with the handle for several seconds before remembering that nearly three hours ago she had fought with Megan and locked the women out of her room, the bathroom door included. She chuckled to herself once before flicking open the lock.

She made a pit stop to the kitchen to put on a kettle of water for tea before tiptoeing her way to the living room. On her couch lay Megan on her stomach, one hand hanging off the couch with a blanket twisted around her lower legs. Her friend was so dead asleep that Nix was curled in a tight ball on the small of Megan's back.

Fighting a laugh Amber went back to the kitchen deciding not to wake her friend up by using a kettle that would sound like a train whistle. She instead used her electric kettle, a gift from Megan after she had moved into 221C. It would alert her to boiling water with a light beeping, which she found preferable since she had a headache.

Walking quietly now she left the water to boil and went back to the living room. She carefully unlatched the door of her rabbit's hutch and left it. The rabbit was well behaved, rarely chewed wires, not that there were any laying around really, and she deserved a little freedom to roam. Her cat wouldn't harm the rabbit either. This was her usual morning routine and within fifteen minutes the rabbit would hop back to her hutch to eat the fresh hay which Amber usually put there. Today it had been done by Megan.

She simply left the living room as Rose the rabbit hopped on out to investigate the flat. Amber went towards the bathroom in need of using the toilet as well as in search of some paracetamol. Flipping on the light she blinked rapidly at the change in light, a explosion of pain erupting in her head. She groaned softly as her eyes adjusted. What she saw on her mirror gave her the shock of her life.

Giving off a strangled scream as she ended up stumbling backwards and falling flat on her ass. On the mirror a pictures was taped up. It was in color and one of her wrapped around Sherlock outside of the hospital early that morning. Above it, written in one of her lipsticks, was the statement 'Hope you feel better'. She was trying not to panic but after the adventure of last night she was still walking on pins and needles. Her body was on edge as was her mind so her reaction was reasonable, even the shaking and tears running down her cheeks were understandable.

That was how her best friend found her, curled in a ball against the wall across from the sink, her green eyes glassy and fixed on the mirror. Megan caught a glimpse of what Amber was staring at and gasped. "How? I was just in here right before six," she mumbled grabbing at Amber's arm and nearly dragging the redhead from the bathroom.

At this point Amber went willingly to the living room where she curled back into a ball on her favorite chair. She hurt all over, was slightly scared, and of course worried. Someone had entered her home while she and Megan had been sleeping. This sick person could have done just about anything in that time. "I don't know. I don't know," she kept repeating as Megan gave a sharp nod turning around and leaving the flat.

Amber caught a glimpse of her friend's back, seeing the deep furrows of what could only be the wounds inflicted by a rudely awoken cat. It made her chuckle to herself despite the situation she found herself if. Since the mystery box at Scotland Yard nothing had shown up, no more pictures, nor more notes, and no more little gifts such as her father's watch. She had thought that maybe, against all odds, this person had finally decided to leave her alone. Apparently she had thought wrong once more.

Seconds after Megan had left she was back with a very concerned John and a somewhat excited Sherlock. "What happened?" He asked coming to kneel in front of Amber's chair so that he was level with her.

She couldn't speak, the scream she had let out hurt her throat making it more painful for her to speak. Sherlock turned to Megan for answers. "What happened?"

"In the bathroom. There is a picture taped to the mirror and a note written in lipstick." The brunette had her arms wrapped around her midsection, as if fighting off the urge to vomit. Her fingers tapped rapidly on her ribcage.

"And it was not you correct?"

Megan turned to John. "Can I smack him?" John shook his head with a laugh. "Please."

"I will take that as a no. Do you know who could have done it?" Sherlock said trudging on with his questions as John laughed lightly in the background. Amber was trying to find some humor in her friend's interaction with John but she just couldn't.

Amber attempted to clear her throat, hissing when she felt the burn. "The bastard who is stalking me." She felt a shudder roll through her and reached to wipe the tears off her face. "Sorry," she murmured almost too low for Sherlock to hear.

She watched his face soften for a moment laying a hand on top of hers. "You shouldn't be," he whispered before standing up leaving to go investigate the bathroom. She felt like crying even more. He had been so gentle with her, so sweet. She wanted to know what had changed though she think already knew.

John took a few moments to stare opening in surprise and confusion at what just happened between the two of them but in the end he followed Sherlock back into the bathroom to give any help that could be needed. Megan took this time to lean on the edge of Amber's chair curling protectively around the redhead. She felt a little more comfort knowing that there were three people in her flat she could trust to keep her safe.

After several moments she unfurled herself from the ball she was in smiling hesitantly to Megan before getting carefully off the couch to check all the windows. She was still shaken but she had calmed down enough that she knew she had to search to see if things were missing and how the person had gotten into her home in the first place.

While Sherlock and John were in the bathroom and Megan on the couch, she first turned off the already boiling water and checked the windows. Neither of them were open. She made sure nothing was missing in there, finding nothing having even been touched. Her next circuit was her room, then the living room, and finally she came to stand at the threshold of the bathroom. John was taking a couple of photographs with his phone of the writing on the mirror while Sherlock was attempting to see if he could get out the unlocked window at the top of the far wall of the bathroom.

She actually found this amusing, watching him struggle to get out the window, watching his backside as he did so. _Not such a bad view. _She didn't care at that point who was watching her as she watched him. She just didn't want to laugh at his attempts. He landed back on his feet in the room looking around as he thought for a moment, noticing no one else in the room with him. She crossed her arms, leaning on the door frame as he used the edge of the lion's foot tub to push himself out the window, having to wiggle a little when he got stuck. She stood there mouth agape even as he slipped his way back into the room landing with barely any noise in the tub.

"That answers that question," Amber whispered carefully fearing that speaking any louder would hurt her throat even more. She felt like she had laryngitis and it annoyed her she couldn't speak normally.

Sherlock turned, still standing in the tub, to face Amber. "What question would that be?"

"The same one that prompted you to climb out the window and then back in," she smiled as she spoke. "How did this person unlock my window in the first place? I never, under any circumstance, unlock it." She rubbed at her throat when she realized that she had tried to speak at a normal level. _This is going to get old fast. _

"From what I saw outside I believe he used a thin knife to force open the lock. There are scratches on the paint and several on the glass itself. These are basement grade windows, ones that are easily opened from both the inside and outside. You will have to talk to Mrs. Hudson about having them replaced for the safety of everyone in the building." Amber really hadn't heard anything after he had said the word 'knife'. Her eyes widened, her pulse quickened, and she knew she paled.

She stumbled backwards, aimlessly grabbing for the door frame but ended up sliding down to sit cross legged on the ground. She leaned her head forward, an attempt at putting her head between her knees as she tried to fight the hyperventilating she knew was starting.

"Get her up," John ordered Megan as he himself grabbed at one of her arms. Between her best friend and John she was hauled to the living room, sat on the couch, and had her head forced between her knees to get her breathing back to normal.

"What happened?" Megan asked, her voice shaking with fear as she rubbed small circles on friend's back. She had never seen Amber in such a state of fear. This however wasn't the first time Amber had hyperventilated. The first time was after her brother died and she was nearly inconsolable in her pain. The second time was two days after her sister's funeral. Both attacks were brought on by the pain of loss, not fear like this episode.

Sherlock and John shared a look. "I have no idea," the dark haired of the two said looking at the girl on the couch. She wasn't the strong woman he had seen the night before at the gala. The shock of the night's events weren't helping much to calm her fear and he knew she had finally broken down. He usually would have scoffed as such a reaction but on some level he knew that in her situation this was warranted.

"She paled when Sherlock said a knife was used to jimmy open the window," John said which made Megan pale in turn except she didn't slide to the floor in hysterics.

Megan cleared her throat. "A knife? I can see why she would react like this. If that freak managed to get in here and had a knife he could have easily killed the both of us." Her voice was a little more frantic now but there was a level of calmness there as if she wasn't scared of whatever fate she met. Sherlock took note of that, filing it away for later if he needed it.

"Yes he could have but what matters is he didn't. Right now he seems to be playing some sort of game. Messing with Amber's mind so to speak. John would you mind talking to Mrs. Hudson about having these windows replaced?" Sherlock said noticing that Amber's breathing had leveled out but she still kept her head between her knees, as if sitting up would set her off again.

Megan, noting Amber was okay now, looked to John. "I'll come with you." The man nodded and the both left the flat though Megan was a little hesitant, stopping just before the door giving a glance over her shoulder before heading out.

Sherlock was now left alone with Amber, not what he originally planned but he supposed it was okay. "Are you going to be alright?" He asked sitting down stiffly on the chair she had not so long ago occupied.

She shuddered a breath but lifted her head, tears glittering in the green depths of her eyes. "I'll be fine Sherlock. I just," she paused for a moment thinking. "I just don't know why this is going on. I haven't done anything that would upset anyone and I can't even begin to think of a reason some nutter would want to follow me around snapping pictures day in day out. He could have killed me." She shuddered violently as a few of those tears escaped her eyes. She wiped them away as fast as they fell. "God I must look like a crying fool. I'm sorry for acting like this," she sniffled rubbing a hand under her nose wishing for a tissue.

"You are taking this better than most people would. You haven't quite broke into hysterics and you are coherent enough to actually speak with me. So don't apologize." He watched a small smile tug at her lips but it failed. She was shaking and it wasn't from the cold.

"Oh trust me I'm a mess just not outwardly." She sniffed again before remembering the tissues on the side table. Reaching for one she quietly blew her nose. "I need to talk to you about last night," her voice was low still and a little embarrassed as she changed the subject. If she didn't ask about it now she would forget in the wake of everything that had happened in the last eighteen hours.

"What about it?" He said before feeling a tugging at his pant leg. He looked down to see a small orange tinged rabbit chewing at his pants. "Can you stop?" He ordered the fuzz ball but instead of it actually listening it continued to chew. "Could you help? This thing is ruining my clothes."

Amber peeked around the table and found herself laughing wildly at her rabbit chewing his pants. She stood up, walked around the table, scooped the creature off the floor, and sat herself back down with the bunny in her arms. It snuggled into her lap, content to be there. "Sorry about Rose. She usually doesn't chew on people unless she likes them."

He gave a brief nod. "About last night, what is it you wished to speak about?"

Amber blushed though the red color mixed in with the red on her cheeks from crying. She damned her complexion to hell as she nervously rubbed between the bunny's ears. "I said something last night, something that I hadn't intended to say, at least not yet that is."

"What would that be?" Sherlock asked knowing clear well what she was referring to. He now knew that Amber had meant what she said and it hadn't been from the pain medication. That fact just confused him more so.

"Either you are lying or you really don't remember." She looked at him gauging his reaction. He gave away nothing at all as he sat there staring at her with those cold blue eyes of his. Yet this time they weren't cold, they seemed intrigued and somewhat eager for her response. This had the smile she had tried giving earlier fully forming on her face. She ended up nibbling on her bottom lip though. "I told you I liked you, not like I liked you as a friend would but," she blushed harder. "Like I liked you romantically." _God, I sound like a thirteen year old telling her first crush she liked him. _

"Ah yes, I do remember that. I assumed it was because you were essentially drugged."

Amber's smile grew for some unknown reason, her nervousness all but forgotten. Maybe it was because he wasn't down right rejecting her and the small hope still clung to her mind. "That was the reason I said it yes but I actually meant it. So where do we go from here?" She asked knowing that Sherlock might be able to forget what she said but she certainly couldn't.

"I have no idea." He said matter-of-factly.

She laughed once more startling the sleeping bunny in her arms. It leaped off her lap to the couch and ended up being caught in midair by Amber as it attempted to head for the floor. Amber put the rabbit into its cage where it began eating hay, completely comfortable with being where it belonged. "How about we go out for dinner tonight, just me and you?" She asked confident that he would say yes.

"I believe you need rest. You have a concussion, a bruised throat and windpipe, and you have just had your flat broken into."

"Oh." She was crestfallen, a sense of rejection filling her as she took her seat once again. She was now uncomfortable and hurt.

Sherlock cocked his head to the side seeing the difference in her attitude, her smile having fled from her face. He realized what she had been asking. "You were suggesting a date?" She nodded slightly. "I," he stopped. "I didn't realize that otherwise I would have explained myself differently."

Her head perked up now, a ghost of a smile brightening her face. "What do you mean?"

"It wouldn't be wise for you to be going out. You do need to rest. I can bring dinner here or we can plan for another day." He was unsure of himself once again, something he wasn't used to feeling. He had meant what he said about not having realized she was offering a date, not just a night out for dinner instead of eating takeaway in their flats. He had little experience with woman and dating wasn't something he usually did. John on the other hand was a serial dater and would have understood immediately. That made him actually wonder where John and Megan had gone to. It didn't take that long to tell Mrs. Hudson what happened and what needed to be done.

Amber smiled shyly. "You don't have must experience dating do you?"

He shook his head. "I've been married to my work for longer than I can remember. I don't usually date."

"Have you ever actually been on a date? Ones not concerning a case that is?" She snuggled back into her couch finding that her mind was somewhere else besides the events of that morning. She was thankful otherwise she might have still been crying and freaking out.

"Not since school. I tried my hand at dating, at my brother's insistence. I was told it was the normal thing boys did at that age." He said as if it didn't matter to him what was normal and what was not. "You, having been married, have experience dating I assume."

This time her blush could be seen on her pale cheeks. "Um, surprisingly no. I was young when I met Scott, he was actually my first serious boyfriend. After we divorced I throw myself into my work and only went on a handful of dates which usually ended badly. So I'm on the same boat as you." She forced a chuckle realizing how awkward she felt sitting on her couch in her pajamas, or what was close to her pajamas, with a man she was asking out on a date.

"Well if you'd like to wait we can go out on a different night, when you aren't as battered and bruised." Sherlock suggested noting her discomfort.

"Or you can just bring something by tonight," she suggested right back watching him think it over. She was holding her breath as she waited for his response.

"I suppose that could work."

"Good," Amber sighed with relief. It wasn't a date but it wasn't going to be a dinner shared by four people either. Now all she had to do was get Megan out of the flat for a couple of hours. That wouldn't be as hard as she though seeing as she knew her friend had a slight crush on the good doctor upstairs.

Neither of them got a chance to flatten out the plans as someone knocked on the front door of 221B Baker Street. Both of them heard the knock twice before Mrs. Hudson shouted that she would get it. The knocking stopped after that. "So you have a brother?" Amber felt compelled to ask suddenly.

"Yes," he didn't sound happy about it. "I am surprised you haven't met him yet. He seems to enjoy asking my friends, both old and new, as to whether or not they would spy on me. He offers a considerable about of money but no one seems to take it."

Amber laughed a bit wildly at the notion of siblings spying on one another. "Well if it helps any I'll take the money and we can split it."

"That is what I told John he should have done!" Sherlock sounded delighted at the idea of taking money from his brother. This just made Amber smile and laugh a little more before there came a knock on her own front door.

"Yes?" she called from the couch, her voice a little higher than a whisper but nowhere near a shout.

"Amber, dear is Sherlock there with you?" Mrs. Hudson's muffled voice sounded through the door.

Drawing her brows together she wondered what the woman needed from him. "Yes he is. What do you need?" She was utterly surprised her voice could be heard through the door.

"Well his brother is here to see him," there was silence an what sounded like a male whisper. "Oh and you too dear. Would you mind greatly if I allowed him in?"

Amber turned to Sherlock, her brows raised in the unspoken question of his approval. He gave one nod. "Sure let him in," she called out giving Sherlock another look. He didn't seem thrilled but sat there nonetheless, still as a statue, all emotion fleeing from his face. She missed the warmth in his cold eyes but she knew it would be back soon enough. They just had to get through a meeting with the eldest Holmes brother.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Case suggestions? Review if you will! **


	13. Chapter 12

_I know it's been a while. School work has been piling up and I'm not just getting through midterms. So here is the new chapter. Hope you enjoy it. _

_**Sierra(guest): **Here is the more you requested, enjoy :)_

_**Gwilwillith: **Thank you!_

_**TheGirlWhoImagined: **Well now I haven't quite decided if she will take the money, when and if she is offered it. I'll get to that eventually. I do hope I can keep the mystery concerning her stalker,that is until I decided to reveal who it is. Your reviews always make me smile and they make my day. So thank you so much!_

_**reindeergames19: **Thank you so much. I actually got the idea for her bunny from a guinea pig I had when I was younger, he only bit me and those he happened to like. There weren't many of those people lol. _

_Disclaimer: I own nothing but Amber, her pets, Megan, and the plot of course! _

* * *

**[012]**

Amber sat peacefully on the couch smiling to a very annoyed looking Sherlock as Mrs. Hudson allowed his brother into her flat. She wondered for a moment why he was upset about his brother being there. Of course it could be the fact that man was showing up uninvited but she knew that there was something else underneath that, something that had to deal with their past and growing up.

A tall man, who resembled Sherlock just older, walked into the room. He had an umbrella that he appeared to be using as a walking stick, even if he didn't need it. He wore a clean black suit with a white shirt and tie. He looked faintly amused when he caught sight of Sherlock. At this point the younger of the two Holmes bothers was looking slightly sullen, a look that Amber hadn't seen before on his face. She fought a giggle as she stood.

She held her hand out to the man. "I'm—"

"Amberlyn Devons, yes I am aware of this." Startled at his knowledge of who she was Amber could only shake his hand rather limply as she wondered how he knew that. "I'm Mycroft, if my dear brother here hasn't already told you."

"I wasn't actually aware he had a brother until minutes ago, so it's a pleasure to meet you." She waved him towards the couch and the other open chair in the room. "Can I get you anything to drink or eat?" She offered as a host should.

"You seemed to have gained weight Mycroft," Sherlock sneered from his chair.

The older of the two glared at the younger. "Losing it actually."

Feeling a little uncomfortable Amber shifted from foot to foot. "Um, well why don't you two catch up while I go clean up a little." She didn't bother waiting for an answer before clearing herself from the room as fast as she could without looking like she was fleeing.

She went to her bedroom first, gathered clean clothing before heading to the bathroom. She shuddered as she spotted the writing and photo on the mirror but didn't make any move to remove it. She knew she was going to have to call the police, specifically Lestrade, so that they could assess the situation and find out what measures she needed to take. This wasn't liked the last few times, this was a break-in and should be dealt with properly.

Trying her best to ignore the mirror she went about her usual morning routine ending with brushing her teeth and throwing her dirty clothing into the low hamper in the corner. She snagged two over-the-counter pain pills downing them with a small cup of water from the bathroom sink and headed out. She felt better about herself now, sure she still hurt like hell but at least she didn't look as if she had just rolled out of bed anymore.

Strolling from the back of the flat she landed herself in the kitchen where she once again turned on the kettle to boil water. At least now she knew she'd actually get around to making the tea instead of having an emotional break down. She stayed there in the kitchen, listening with half an ear as Sherlock and his brother had what appeared to be the shortest conversation in history. Mycroft asked Sherlock to do something for him and Sherlock said no. Of course there happened to be a little argument on Mycroft's side but Sherlock hadn't spoken a word since he had uttered 'no'.

Amber found it hilarious and a little sad that Sherlock was so distant from what she figured was his only family. Come to think of it he knew more about her past than she knew about his. In fact she knew next to nothing about his background, which irked her just a little bit. Not enough to turn her off of attempting to date him but just enough that she had some ideas of what she would be asking him come their dinner that evening, if that even happened at this point.

Dumping some tea into her favorite pot she poured the water over it giving it a quick stir before fishing out her strainer. She placed everything, including sugar and cream containers, onto a tray, walking out to the living room. "I apologize for taking so long. I made tea," she said with a brilliant smile setting it down on the table. "I don't know how you take it and since neither of you are technically actual invited quests you can do that yourselves." _Well if that doesn't make me sound like a rude bitch I don't know what would. _

"Unique one isn't she?" Mycroft throw a somewhat amused smile her way.

Sherlock still said nothing sitting there ignoring his brother. Amber rolled her eyes, fixed his tea how he liked it and promptly shoved it into his hand. He flicked his eyes up to hers which made her smirk seeing annoyance flash there. "Behave Sherlock," she whispered.

"I always behave," he muttered before putting the cup to his lips. His eyes widened in what she assumed was pain considering the water was damn near close to boiling. "It is quite hot."

She smirked taking her seat on the couch. "Sorry," she shrugged. "Thought I mentioned that." She couldn't help the smile that formed on her face at his seething stare. Turning her gaze to Mycroft she tried to look as politely interested in his appearance as she could. However she just found herself wanted to laugh.

After several moments of what could only be classified as the funniest yet uncomfortable silence of her life, Amber spoke up clearing her throat after taking a sip of her own tea. "What brings you here?"

"I wanted to check on Sherlock, and you of course. I heard about the incident at the Mandarin last night."

Amber flinched suddenly as a flash of what happened last night flooded her mind. For a second she was back in that moment, a hand around her throat and breath so close to her face she could smell his halitosis. She fought for her breath, or at least that was how it felt as she heard her name being called. As suddenly as the flashback started it ended leaving her gasping in front of the both Sherlock and his brother. "Sorry," she mumbled with a blush as tears of embarrassment tried to seep from her eyes.

"What happened?" Sherlock asked his voice wrought with concern. This had Mycroft tilting his head in curiosity at his younger sibling and the redhead who appeared to be embarrassed and scared all the same time. The bruise on her throat looked nasty and painful, he wouldn't blame her for freaking out over the mention of what happened the previous evening.

She shook her head. "Nothing," she paused. "Just—nothing. I'm fine Sherlock." She tried to smile, it didn't work instead it ended as a grimace of pain. She rubbed lightly at the bruise on her neck. "Your concern is lovely but there has to be something else. You don't seem the kind to show up on your brother's door step because you're worried."

Mycroft looked impressed, even going so far as to give Sherlock a look that said such. "My, beauty and a brain."

Instead of blushing Amber raised a brow. "Um, thanks I think."

"It was meant a compliment," Sherlock elaborated having assumed the position she had seen him in many times over the past few weeks. His hands were set in a prayer like gesture held to his lips in contemplation. She liked that look, had since the beginning. "What is it that you want Mycroft? Like she said you aren't here purely out of concern for me or Amber."

There was a sense of testosterone in the air. It made he want to laugh at how stupid they were being. _A pissing contest between brothers, how appropriate. _She wasn't planning on sticking around any longer than need be if they were going to keep acting like children participating in a petty feud. She didn't need to know either of them well to see they didn't get along. The tension was thicker than butter and probably harder to cut.

Setting her cup down on the table she pushed herself off the couch. "Since you two don't seem to be getting anywhere I think I'll just head off to Scotland Yard and give my statement," she said grabbing her coat which had been discarded either by herself or Sherlock sometime last night. She slipped on her flats, grabbed her purse and keys, her phone already in her pocket and headed for her front door. Both men were now looking at her with confusion. "Please do clean up when you are finished." And out she went.

00000

By noon Amber was exiting a taxi in front of her flat. She handed the cabbie his fare and for a moment wondered if she really wanted to go inside. That morning had been so surreal. She had asked Sherlock on a date, gotten a yes in response, and met the brother he never mentioned having. She wasn't even positive that this had happened, it could have all been a memory her mind made up in it's concussed state. Her brain did want Sherlock to say yes to a date so the idea was possible since she had been under the assumption that getting a date with Sherlock was like traveling in time: it just wasn't possible.

So why, if her mind had made this all up, did she feel the urge to grin like a teenager who had just been asked to the spring formal? Even if this was for real did she really believe that for one second she actually stood a chance at getting through Sherlock's emotional barrier? She already knew his stance on love and relationship. That only brought up more questions she couldn't answer. _If I keep thinking like this I'm going to end up canceling this date. _

Sighing she finally ended up headed to Speedy's where she grabbed a sandwich. She sat at one of the small tables nibbling on the food alone with her thoughts for the first time in days. It was nice not to have to talk to anyone, not to answer questions about her life, not to face death and take its picture. It might have hurt to swallow her food but the warm tea she had helped some.

Just as she was getting ready to finish her sandwich she noticed John out of the corner of her eye coming straight for where she was. She noted that Megan was no where to be found, most likely having taken the tube back down to Sussex as planned today. It was then that she realized her meal was about to be disrupted and that she had forgotten to call Lestrade in on her lovely little stalker issue. Then again the police cruiser pulling up to the street gave it away that someone, probably Sherlock himself, had called the police for her. She sighed wishing to bash her head on the table but didn't because she already had a nagging headache that not even medicine could help.

Sighing, she stuffed the last corner of her sandwich into her mouth just as John took a seat beside him. "Hi Amber."

"John," she nodded with a small smile as she wiped at her mouth. "See Meg off to the train?" she asked before taking a sip of her tea. It soothed the ache but only slightly. She was beginning to want to just lay down and take a nap.

"Train? No she's in watching telly with Mrs. Hudson." Confused Amber just sort of sat there. "Was she supposed to be on a train somewhere?"

"Um, yeah. She was supposed to go back to Sussex today to finishing packing. She found a flat two blocks up from here. She's supposed to be moving in later this coming week," she said tapping the bump on the back of her head out of curiosity over the fact that unlike the bruising on her neck she couldn't see the bump.

John was the one who looked confused now. "She never said anything about that."

Amber laughed. "And you've spent so much time with her have you?"

He looked embarrassed. "Actually yes. While you were at the gala, then after we heard you were hurt, and then we went out for breakfast this morning after taking to Mrs. Hudson. She never mentioned anything about moving here to London so soon."

"Like me she's tired of Sussex, plus she's got a better job offer from Bart's. Teaching gig along with her normal nurse duties. She loves London and I think she may have a new reason for wanting to move here so fast." She gave a knowing grin, the kind woman used all the time when their friends were interested in someone. Megan usually had terrible taste in men, men who were often abusive and mean. John wouldn't be that way, at least if Megan really was showing some interest as John himself seemed to be doing.

"Has Mycroft left the flat or would you not know?" She changed subjects before John could say anything more.

For a second he seemed to just stare at her, as if he didn't know what she was talking about. It took him a moment but he remembered the events that had him leaving the flat, in search of Amber nonetheless. "Actually yes. He left twenty minutes ago and wishes you a fast recovery."

"Hm," she mumbled to herself tapping a nail on the table. "Sherlock sent you to find me didn't he?"

Hanging his head in shame John nodded. "Again yes. He called Lestrade and apparently you had just left the office."

"And now they are invading my flat touching all my things." She didn't even try to sound upset. If she so much as growled or snarled her throat would throb, not the most pleasant feeling as she was learning. "Think I can get away with holing myself up here?" She teased as she finished off her tea.

As if on cue her phone rang blaring music though the cafe. Looking at it she simply declined to answer. It rang again, she repeated the process. After three more calls and several texts from Sherlock, one from Megan, and two from Lestrade, which were all in the space of five minutes, she finally turned the phone off stuffing it in her pocket. She gathered her trash while John laughed and threw it out.

She took her time entering the building, taking her coat off and hanging it in the foray. She even slipped her flats off making sure they were nearly places where she could get to them again. She fished her phone out of her coat pocket stuffing that and her keys into her jeans. She even hung her purse perfectly on the coat rack on top of her coat. All the while she did this John was laughing at her antics.

By the time she got to the outer door of her flat ten minutes had passed since she left the cafe right beside 221B Baker Street. She was met by an angry looking Anderson. "Oh joyful it's you. What the hell are you doing here? Not much of a crime scene really, just a passive aggressive note and a picture from my stalker," she shoved the lanky man out of the way. He just grunted in response.

"Lestrade!" she shouted once inside. She gagged when she realized what she had done but it wasn't as if she had wanted half a dozen police personal in her flat trampling all over her things. She just prayed someone had been smart enough not to actually leave her front door open. She didn't want Nix running out the doors.

"Don't need to scream," Lestrade said coming from the general direction of her bathroom and bedroom.

She gritted her teeth pushing once more past Anderson who was trying to get around her in order to get to the bathroom. John was no longer behind her, having sensed her agitation at her privacy once more being invaded by people she didn't quite want around at the moment. She liked people, just not when she was hurting and a little on edge.

"No I really didn't," her voice was now a whisper because like that morning anything higher was going to hurt. At this rate she was going to have to keep her mouth shut for several days, especially if she kept screaming and raising her voice every other conversation.

"Hows your head?"

"No better than my throat, meds keep it from hurting to much." She confided kindly but none to nicely. While in the office with him that morning her head hadn't hurt much, now it was beginning to hurt like hell. That and she just wanted a nap without worrying that she would wake up to find something written on her mirror.

_The windows, _she groaned inwardly. She still had to talk to Mrs. Hudson about when the windows would be replaced. Hopefully it was sometime in the coming week since she didn't have to go to work. A paid vacation, Lestrade had teased. She didn't like downtime that she didn't schedule herself. She even, from time to time, hate her days off though lately it was as if her free days were more work than freedom.

"So tell me what happened this morning?" He prompted knowing that she was on edge as it was. He motioned her towards a chair which caused her to raise and eyebrow. He shook his head. "Sit down Amber," he ordered which only made her cross her arms in a defiant fashion.

She gave a cocky grin at the look of annoyance on his face. "My flat my rules."

"My case my rules," Lestrade countered. He hadn't seen this side of her before, the side that said she was more stubborn than Sherlock on a case. When all she did was just stand their, her arms crossed, her eye brows nearly meeting her hair line he finally caved giving a sigh and dropping the cop attitude. "Amber you're injured and shaken. Sit down and shut up."

Her jaw nearly hit the ground as her butt connected with the couch. He took a seat on the chair across from the couch. "Tell me what happened."

Pushing her glasses into her hair she rubbed her tired eyes. "God, I feel like we've already done this once today."

"We have."

She sighed and flopped backwards into the couch. "I woke up at around nine. Megan had been waking me up literally every two hours until finally I locked her out of my room. So I was running on three hours of sleep. I went to make tea, spotted Megan on the couch and headed for the bathroom. I switched on the light and saw on the mirror a photo of me and Sherlock leaving the hospital last night taped there. Above that was a note written in one of my lipsticks, a favorite I might add," he chuckled lightly as her slightly put off tone in her voice. "It said 'hope you feel better'. That was it. I screamed, hit the the floor and Megan came running. She got Sherlock and John after that. They took a look around and finally I left to meet up with you to give my statement about what happened last night."

"Why did you take so long to report the break-in?"

_Cop questions, _she growled to herself. "It's not much of a big deal looking at it now. No one was harmed and we're all safe. I really had meant to tell you after giving my statement but I was so burned out I completely forgot. I only remembered after getting out of my taxi in front of 221B," she said sheepishly realizing that she had done the wrong thing that morning. The first step she should have taken was calling the police not talking with Sherlock about a date and then meeting his brother before going down to the Yard.

"Understandable," the DI gave a nod. "Just don't let it happen again. If this person has gone from leaving you pictures in packages to breaking into your flat while you are sleeping you have cause to be worried. I'm going to put a detail on the building to make sure nothing else happens. I'm assuming Sherlock knows how your stalker got in?"

"Through the bathroom window, slipped in and out but he must have been thin because those windows aren't that big. Sherlock even had a hard time getting in and out." She smiled slightly to herself remembering the sight of Sherlock's butt wiggling as he attempted to get out the tiny window.

Lestrade gave a chortle of amusement. "I'll have a little chat with him. Have you talked to Mrs. Hudson about replacing these windows?"

"I haven't, no. But Megan and John have. I was thinking about going upstairs to talk to her now." She motioned towards her front door where she spotted yet another tech entering. There only happened to be a hand full of people in her flat, besides herself and Sherlock that was. She knew everyone that came and went so when she caught their eye they often looked away, as if embarrassed that they had to be invading the privacy of a fellow co-worker.

"Go talk to her then. You aren't needed down here and then I want you to get some rest. You look like hell." Lestrade teased as she pulled herself off the couch. She stuck out her tongue earning a laugh from the older man. Amber liked him. He was kind to her and didn't tease her for the fact that she was smart and pretty. He treated her like one of the guys. She considered him a friend even if he was sort of like her boss.

She sneered as she walked towards the open front door. "Thanks for the compliment. Don't be going through my underwear," she whisper-shouted listening to a round of male laughter from her flat. She took the short half flight of stairs up to the main level and turned towards 221A.

As she raised her hand to knock the door opened revealing Megan who was wearing a blush. She spotted John in the background smiling like a fool. _So that was where they got to. _She was grinning now. "So, what were you two doing?" She knew her friend and it took a lot to get her to look as bright as a tomato.

"Nothing," Megan squeaked, and fled the flat to head upstairs where no one currently was. Amber chuckled softly, her bruised throat not allowing her the full laughter she would have liked to give.

She walked into the flat spotting Mrs. Hudson sitting in the living room trying not to snicker. John was still grinning as Amber took a seat beside her landlady. "So anyone going to tell me what just happened?" she asked looking between the older woman and her friend.

"Oh you know flirting and such. I believe John might have embarrassed the poor girl."

Amber shot him a questioning look. "I didn't do anything I swear," he even held his hand up in a boyscout like motion. This only caused the redhead to laugh and shake her head. "How is everything going down there?" he changed the subject.

She grimaced before speaking softly hoping that they would both be able to hear her. "Lestrade and his band of merry men are gathering what little evidence there is. Nothing much else to say really. I'm actually up here to talk to Mrs. Hudson about my windows."

"Yes dear. I was going to come downstairs and talk to you about that. I called someone about getting them all replaced. I have a meeting set for tomorrow and if all goes well they will be replaced by the end of the week. You'll have to move Rose and Nix up here for a couple of hours. It wouldn't due to have both animals spooked by the noise." The older woman said smiling brightly at the younger one.

She nodded. "That sounds perfectly reasonable to me. Rose and Nix are used to noise but I don't want them exposed to all that dust and stuff that will be floating about the air. I'll cover the cost."

Mrs. Hudson put her hand on Amber's knee. "Don't you worry about it dear. This is my building after all and it is my responsibility to keep you safe as my tenant."

"Yes but I still feel bad. If it weren't for me the flat wouldn't have been broken into at all." She gave a sad smile. "We'll talk about that later though."

"Any ideas who could be doing this?" John asked from his little corner of the room.

Turning to face him Amber gave a slow shake of her head. "No idea once so ever. I keep going over my childhood and all the people my parents knew, even the ones they worked with. I was young when they were killed and I don't remember much of their personal life like I've told Sherlock. I don't know who would want to stalk and taunt me in such a manner. What makes it worse is that I don't even see this person following me. Usually I can spot when I have a tail, like once when I was on my first date when I was fifteen Megan actually followed. It might have just been the fact that she was a terrible stalker but I spotted her right from the start." She laughed to herself at the memory.

The room got silent for several minutes in which time Amber began to fiddle with her fingers. "How are you doing with all this? Not just this stalker but with what happened last night?" Mrs. Hudson asked breaking the tension that seemed to fill the room.

Amber's hand went to her throat rubbing the bruise that graced her pale skin. While the mark would fade she knew the memory of the night wouldn't, at least not for a long time to come. "I'm coping," she finally sighed out. "It's hard really with it being so fresh in my mind. It'll get better with time."

"I doubt you thought your job would entail violence." Sherlock's voice came from the hallway shocking John and Amber. Mrs. Hudson looked taken aback at the tall man's intrusion.

Amber couldn't help but smile slightly, turning her upper body to face him. He stood there in his suit, a pale blue shirt clashing with the black of the jacket and pants. The color melded with his pale skin making his blue eyes bluer and his black hair darker. She couldn't help but realize how she hadn't noticed this before and now she seemed finally attuned to his looks. _Goddamn school girl again, _she groaned to herself. "Violence is a part of my career choice Sherlock and you know this."

"Yes," he said walking farther into the living room to come sit on the only empty chair. It would seem that in each flat there was at least two chairs and a couch, maybe it was for convenience but Amber figured it had something to due with Sherlock not wanting to sit close to other people. "Being a photographer is so dangerous." He sneered as if her career was under his chosen field.

Amber's brows raised now in annoyance. How was it that they could go from talking about a potential date to being on opposite sides of a debate she figured would last for the remainder of their lives. "I am a crime scene photographer. I see violence every day you arse."

"You _see _violence and not usually part of it." He sated matter-of-factly as if she didn't know this.

"Violence is a part of my life Sherlock remember. My parents were murdered, brother died in a car crash, sisters taken, and my husband was in the military and is now dead. I certainly say I know violence." Her voice was harsh now as she defended herself and her life.

Sherlock gave a nod of acceptance. He liked the fire in her tone, the strength in her voice and the flare in her eyes. She might have looked like she had gone ten rounds with a world class fighter but she was as strong as she would ever be and just as beautiful as she was dressed in a ball gown. "Has that violence ever been directed at you, before now that is?" He questioned watching her eyes flash with heat once more.

Amber felt her eye twitch. "No, not before now. I've never been beaten, smacked, or abused in anyway," she said through gritted teeth. She stood up suddenly looking to Mrs. Hudson with a tight smile. "I'm going to go for a walk. Could you keep an eye on the activity in my flat?" She asked not bothering to look at Sherlock or John for that matter.

"Sure dear, anything you need."

"Thanks," Amber leaned down to give the older woman a light hug. She turned to John. "See you later," she murmured with a wave as she walked around Sherlock's chair. She was stopped suddenly by his hand grabbing at hers. She looked down at their joined hands feeling a shiver run up and down her spine as her heart began to thud erratically in her chest. "What?" The question came out breathy, no doubt noticed by all parties in the room. She cursed her attraction to that man.

"What would you like for dinner?" He asked, oblivious to everyone else in the room. Her eyes darted to John and then to Mrs. Hudson. Both adults had their jaws dropped as if they didn't believe what they were hearing from Sherlock.

She smiled down at him, looking into those icy blue eyes seeing warmth there that hadn't been there two weeks ago. Her smiled warmed despite the annoyance she felt from their previous conversation. She never did like roller coasters but she had a feeling this man was going to cause her life to be one. He would be the death of her in the long run. "Surprise me," she whispered lightly feeling his grip tighten for a split second and she knew he was taking her pulse. Whatever he read from her vital signs made him smirk before he finally let her slip free.

Trying to smile she fled from the flat without so much as looking back. She didn't even hear what John had actually said but knew he was saying something as well as Mrs. Hudson telling him something. She headed down to her flat, which was now vacant of everyone one Lestrade and two techs. She grabbed her shoes, coat, and keys approaching the DI in question. "Almost done?" She asked slipping her coat on, placing her keys between her teeth.

"Should be out of here in thirty minutes of so. You off somewhere?"

"Going for a walk," she said with a tense smile. "Let Mrs. Hudson know when you are done and tell her to please lock my doors." She waved as she left hearing his answer of 'sure'.

Amber did not leave the building though, she headed upstairs to Sherlock's flat with her shoes in her hands. She found Megan on the couch watching the television. She plopped on the couch beside her best friend and began to put on her shoes. "Wanna go for a walk?" She asked her dark haired friend.

"Why?" Megan asked turning dark eyes onto Amber. There was a spark there, a happiness that Amber hadn't seen in a while. It had to be John's doing. She liked that, the idea of her friends being together.

"I need some air." It wasn't a lie but it wasn't the truth either. "I was thinking we could stop somewhere for a late lunch or something. I need to talk to you."

"Please tell me you aren't going to sit down and lecture me about dating John or something like that because I don't need a relationship talk from you." While it was said with love Amber couldn't help but wince at the tone in her friend's voice. Her face fell. "Oh love I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound so harsh."

Amber smiled a little. "I know. I was planning on asking about you and John but I also need to talk to you about something else."

"Like what?"

"Get your shoes on and grab a coat. We'll talk while we walk." Amber teased finally. It took all of five seconds for Megan to grab her coat and slip on her shoes. She laughed as they left the flat passing Sherlock and John on the way out. Amber couldn't help but notice the look Megan gave John while she herself smile sweetly at a smirking Sherlock. _Oh yeah, this is going to be a fun ride._

_**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Please Review!**_


	14. Chapter 13

_Look another update! YAY! Anyways hope you enjoy it!_

_**DeathDragon130**: I'm glad you think so :) Thanks for the review!_

_**Gwilwillith**: Thank you!_

_**bored411**: Yes I hadn't planned it like that but well Amber and Sherlock are those kinds of people who could go from arguing to talking like civilized people, well as civilized as they can be lol. Um, if you're having issues with the alert system I can send you a PM when I update to make it easier on you until the system starts working properly again for you. Let me know._

_Disclaimer__: I own nothing you recognize I own Amber, her pets, and Megan as well as any plot you don't recognize!_

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**[013]**

Amber and Megan had made it several blocks before Amber voiced that she needed a break. Her head was throbbing more now, she had forgotten to take something for the pain before leaving, and her neck was tight. She wore a thin cotton scarf around her neck to hide the nasty bruise but that didn't mean it hid the mark that well. She occasionally got a few stares from people passing them but people were smart enough to keep their mouths shut, or they weren't concerned enough to ask what happened.

Megan was the one to point out a little cafe, suggesting they head in for tea and maybe something to nibble on. Amber was fast to respond and before she knew it they were sitting in the back of the cafe, in a secluded little booth with tea and muffins in front of them.

Amber picked at a banana nut muffin, leaving crumbs strewn across a napkin. She wasn't so much eating it as much as she was playing with her food. She wasn't in the mood to eat due to the headache that thumped at the back of her head. She tried to pay it no mind but the pain was bad. She was beginning to think that staying home would have been better for her than some fresh air but she wasn't about to admit that to anyone, especially Megan. The other woman would nag her until they caught a taxi and headed back to the Baker Street.

"Head hurting?" Megan asked as she pulled a chunk off her own muffin, which was cinnamon swirl, and stuffed it into her mouth.

Giving a snort, Amber finally stuck a piece of her own muffin into her mouth. She chewed before she spoke. "Just a tad bit. Nothing too bad."

Megan rose one dark brow. "You love banana nut muffins, hell sweets in general. I've never known you to turn a muffin down unless you've got a splitting headache. Don't lie to me love."

Rolling her green eyes Amber finally admitted defeat by pushing her napkin and muffin out of the way to lay her head on the cool wooden top of their table. "Yes my head is killing me. I forgot to take medicine before I fl—left the flat."

Megan let out a whoop of laughter having caught her friend's slip of the tongue. "So you were fleeing!" Her smile was enough to cause Amber to throw a crumb her way before giving in and giving a silent laugh. "Why were you fleeing? Did Sherlock say something?"

"Not so much said something as did something," Amber admitted as she folded her arms on the table placing her chin on top to stare at her dark haired friend.

"What did that git do?"

"You've known him a total of two days Meg," Amber sighed closing her eyes waiting for the next round of throbbing to pass.

Megan snorted. "Two days, two weeks. Makes no difference. He's a bit a git if you ask me. All knowing and acting like a smart ass. I'd have hit him if I hadn't known you liked him."

"Never stopped you before," she laughed when the pain subsided to the point where it wasn't to bad. _Nope, just feels like a gnome is running through my head with a pickaxe. _

This time Megan nodded while grinning in agreement. "That is true. I even hit Scot once when he was being an ass."

"You hit him more than once Meg. I think the whole time I was with him you hit him a total of twenty times. Once you completely punched him in the nose." Amber chortled even though her throat was killing her now.

"I was drunk, he was drunk, you were drunk. We all were drunk. I wasn't in control of my actions."

Amber gave a light shake of her head as to not hurt herself any more. "Thank god Scot wasn't an angry drunk or you would have been flat on your ass on the ground."

"No but you put me there a time or two," Megan said through stifled giggles as they both fell into a fit of laughter. People around them began to stare but this only caused the two of them to laugh even harder until Amber was nearly in tears from the pain in her throat and the pain in her ribs from lack of oxygen.

They finally settled down after they were approached by a waiter asking if everything was alright. They each had nodded and were left alone to settle down. With her laughter stopped Amber picked up her cool tea and took a sip. The liquid helped in soothing the shooting pain in her throat and while her head still hurt she found that it didn't hurt as much as it had before. Sometimes laughter was the cure for everything, like her mother had always said.

"So, with that said and done, what did Sherlock do that had you fleeing the flat?" Megan asked as she used the edge of her napkin to wipe at the tears still falling from the outer corners of her eyes.

Amber wiped her thumb under her right eye behind her glasses to get rid of the moisture. "It was a subtle movement, nothing profound in the usual sense."

"Okay what was it?"

She rubbed the back of her hand lightly, her eyes averted from those of her friend. "He grabbed my wrist as I was walking out of the Mrs. Hudson's flat. He," she stopped looking for the right words. "I think he was checking my pulse as he asked me what I'd like for dinner."

"And did your pulse pick up or stay the same?"

"I fled the flat Megan, what do you think happened? And how is it that from what I just said that was what you fixated on?" She tapped her fingers lightly now on the table, her nervousness showing itself clear as day.

Megan chuckled. "What did he mean by what you wanted for dinner?"

Amber now blushed. "I pretty much asked him out before I went into the Yard. He said that in my condition I shouldn't be going out and that we could get takeaway, alone without John or you around." She went from messing with her hands to picking at the edge of her scarf.

Megan's eyes nearly bulged out of her head. "You asked Sherlock Holmes out on a date?"

Now Amber placed her head on the table and tried to contain her laughter at her friend's hilarious facial expression. "Yes I did and he said yes, just not right now. He could change his mind at any time though." With that thought now fresh in her mind she finished the rest of her tea and tried once more to pick at the remainder of her muffin. She doubted she was going to finish it. Usually she would care about that but since she didn't buy it herself she didn't feel to guilty about wasting the money.

"Lets talk about something more happy, like me moving to London."

"Which reminds me," Amber nibbled some more on her muffin. "You were supposed to catch a train this afternoon. Did you miss it on purpose or forget about it completely?"

"A little of both I suppose. With you having been injured last night I didn't feel like leaving you right yet and I just kind of forgot at the same time. I got the ticket changed and I leave tomorrow at noon. I have Ricky and Lena packing my things."

Amber smiled warmly at the mention of her other friends. "I'm surprised you're letting Ricky rifle through your things. You know that bloke has had a crush on you since you became flatmates with Lena."

"Lena wouldn't let him do anything. He's madly in love with her despite his fascination with me." Megan laughed before drinking down the rest of her tea. "So you haven't asked about my own fascination with a certain ex-army doctor."

It was the redhead's turn to smirk knowingly. "Don't need to ask, you've had a grin and blush on your face since you met him yesterday evening. That and I'm nearly a hundred percent sure he's already asked you on a date. That's the only reason you would be uping your move date."

"Glad you think I'm controlled by my baser instincts," there was a snort as a small piece of muffin went flying Amber's way.

She defended herself pathetically with a napkin as they once more received odd looks from the crowd which had now grown since they first entered the cafe. That was their cue to clean up their mess and leave, apologizing for their loudness and childish actions. Amber shoved a five pound note in the tip jar for their trouble and promptly left with a wave and a mental promise to return.

00000

It was six in the evening, her flat was void of all people and noise. The silence was a blessing as Amber soaked in her claw foot tub with the bubbles nearly overflowing onto the floor. The door was cracked open only slightly so she could hear anything that happened in any part of the flat. She wasn't about to let her guard down just because she was in her flat and no one was around. Megan had a habit of barging in and Sherlock had an issue with the concept of privacy. She wanted to know when she wasn't alone anymore.

Well it was that and the fact that her cat kept clawing at the door every time she attempted to close it all the way. Now the little feline was happily perched on the tank of the toilet on top of Amber's purple silk robe, completely asleep as if nothing was the matter.

This was one of those rare moments that Amber enjoyed. She usually never had down time, especially with the work she did. Sure she usually had at least one day off a week but that didn't mean that day was for rest. She had cleaning to do, shopping, and errands to run. Granted this time off was not her idea in the first place but at least it was paid leave since she had been injured on the job. She knew however that within a couple of days she wasn't go to be as laid back as she was that very moment.

So for now she allowed herself the time to just relax, without work to worry about or the stress of this stalker affecting her. She closed her eyes enjoying the warmth of the water and the smell of the mint bubble bath she was soaking in. Her head had a dull throb but nothing like that afternoon, and her throat wasn't as painful seeing as she hadn't spoken for several hours. With the mix of the warmth and the calming aroma she was falling under the spell of sleep before she even realized it.

She came to as she heard her name being called. At first she assumed it was Megan announcing herself in the flat, or Mrs. Hudson checking on her but as she became more conscious and aware of her surroundings she realized it wasn't a female's voice speaking, it was male and it was a voice she knew all too well. It was the voice that sent shivers down her spine and caused butterflies to erupt in her stomach.

Blinking a couple of times she found her vision blurred and realized why. She wasn't wearing her contacts nor her glasses. However that didn't mean she couldn't see at all. Her vision wasn't bad so she could see that Sherlock was standing in the door frame of her bathroom and the bubbles were now gone.

With a squeak of embarrassment she reached carefully to rip her robe out from underneath the still sleeping cat. The little animal awoke with a hiss and raced out of the room nearly barreling into one of Sherlock's legs. "Out!" Her scream came out hoarse as she tossed a bottle of soap at him. She didn't have to scream twice because he backed out of the door frame and shut the door allowing her some semblance of privacy.

Amber sat there for several moments realizing that Sherlock had most likely seen much of her naked form through the now clear water. She blushed as she stood up draping her robe once more over the toilet and reaching for a towel. She dried off the best she could before slipping on the once discarded robe. Tying it tightly around her waist she removed the pins from her hair, letting her short curls fall where the may as she looked at herself in the mirror.

She stared in the mirror for several minutes before finally waltzing from the bathroom, the embarrassment still beating at her cheeks. She knew she was red, but how red was yet to be determined as she found Sherlock sitting on her couch looking as bored as ever.

Upon her entrance Sherlock had to fight the fluttering in his stomach. He hadn't intended to actually see her naked. He had come into the flat and when she wasn't watching the television in the living room he had gone in search of her. He had found her, completely naked, laying sleeping in the tub.

While the water had been pretty clear there had still been a haze from the bubble bath she had been using. However he had still clearly seen her form. She looked even more slight than she already was and even more stunning. He doubted he would ever forget that image.

Now she came out from the bathroom wearing a royal purple Japanese style robe with her arms crossed over her chest. There was a slight tinge of red in her cheeks which lead him to believe she already knew that he had seen her naked. That didn't make him feel any better knowing that she knew.

Clearing her throat Amber shifted farther into the room, quite aware of his eyes roaming her body. "Um, did you need something?" Her voice, still soft, held a bit of timidness she hadn't ever heard before. When had she ever been timid? There wasn't a time in her life where she could recall a moment.

"I was coming to see if you still wanted dinner or if you had already eaten," Sherlock said, his voice as cool as it always was but she didn't miss the heat and curiosity in his eyes as he continued to watch her.

Amber walked to her chair, a smirk replacing the timidness as the seconds ticked by without him saying anything about seeing her naked, even if she was blocked partially by water. "I haven't given food much a thought really," she said as she curled her feet underneath her. "When I get a headache I tend not to eat."

"Why is that?"

She raised a brow as his rather personal question. "Well usually when I get a bad migraine I vomit after eating. Nothing unusual there, I'd just rather not take the risk so I avoid food at all costs until it clears up."

He gave a brief smile and a nod as if he actually agreed with her. "So you do not want dinner than?"

"I haven't decided actually," she admitted with a slight scratch to the side of her head. "I was thinking I could just make something. I'll make you something as well if you'd like." She smiled already knowing his answer.

"I don't eat—"

"While working a case," she finished for him with a light giggle, her former embarrassment still in her mind but she didn't care at the moment. He eat so little that it worried her. He was thin to begin with and if he didn't eat she knew he was going to get thinner. "How about a sandwich, just something small, something that won't hinder your process," she teased lightly as he just kind of stared at her. "Or soup if you would prefer, it's lighter in the long run. Or I can do a soup and sandwich."

He just sat there in silence while she rattled off things she could make. He was humbled by the fact that even in her current injured state she was worried for his health and that she she was willing to make him something to eat. John didn't even offer to make him food, not even Mrs. Hudson even if she did bring up things when she knew he hadn't eaten in days. While Mrs. Hudson just did, Amber had asked. He found that he liked that. "You do not have to cook for me."

Her smile was bright considering he hadn't said no to her offer. "It's really no problem. Megan is off on a date with John and Mrs. Hudson isn't around tonight so I'd rather have company with my dinner than being alone," she admitted nervously. While taking a bath she hadn't thought about the fact that she was all alone, well she had but it hadn't mattered then. Knowing now that she was alone made her think about what could happen and what might happen.

"Are you worried that you flat will be broken into again?" Sherlock prompted watching her movement closely. He spotted her nervousness by the way she began to toy with one of her orange curls and nibble at her bottom lip. He doubted she knew what she was doing.

She shuddered. "Slightly, yes. I don't get scared often Sherlock. I was scared last night and I think that's why I'm scared now. I've never been in danger like that."

"I'm sorry for putting you in such a position." He still felt as if it were partially his fault she was harmed at the gala. He was thankful there hadn't been any more danger last night.

"If it wasn't me it would have been someone else and they might not have made it out alive."

"How do you mean?" He watched her hands fall to her lap, her chest heaving as she took a deep shuddering breath.

"I didn't react like most people would. Sure I struggled as he dragged me to the hall but I never fought back. I thought instead. I thought about what I could do to keep myself alive until someone figured out I was missing. I figured I could talk to him, try to see why he was doing this. Most people wouldn't have tried to talk to their would-be killer." Her explanation came out rushed, the same manner in which her statement had been said that afternoon at the Yard.

He nodded in agreement. Most people were not smart. When they were in danger they reacted with a flight or fight response. Amber was not like most people. She was smart, smarter than he had first thought. Her response was not of flight or fight in the normal sense, she had realized that the situation she was in wasn't something she could run from nor could she fight without being harmed. For her brain to realize this in the split seconds it took for her to be dragged from the lobby meant her mind worked nearly as fast as his. He was proud of that, proud that not all people were dumb. "I still do not believe that even being abused as you were you managed to keep calm enough to talk."

"Flight or fight wasn't possible as I'm thinking you already know. I didn't want to die and either one of those choices would have gotten me to that point. Talking was the only reasonable response to the situation and I'm really glad it worked." She gave him a grin at that last part to which he returned with a smile of his own.

Sherlock was thankful that she was here and alive, that her response had worked well enough that she only came out of the situation with a couple of bruises and nothing more. He did like her, more than he probably should have since they had only known one another for three weeks at the most, and having lost her to a murderer he had been tasked to find would have left him feeling guilty and more than likely a little empty inside. "What did you have in mind for dinner?" He changed the topic watching her whole face light up.

"Soup and a sandwich, simple things I can make. Nothing out of a can though. I hate canned foods. I've got the stuff for broccoli cheese or tomato basil. I've got turkey and an assortment of cheeses for sandwiches. Have a look and let me know what you'd like while I go put on something a little more appropriate than a robe," she said getting off her chair and headed down the hall just as she was standing up. "Oh," she started as she turned once more to face him walking backwards. "Don't come barging into my flat again, well at least not into my bathroom if you can't find me." She was in her room by the time she finished that statement. She ended up slamming the door with a coy look that dared him to do it again.

Sherlock found himself confused. Her moods shifted nearly as much as his own did. He knew women were prone to mood swings but she went from scared and nervous to flirty and playful. Normally a mood swing would mean going from happy to angry in a split second or happy to depressed. She was a bit of a mystery, a mystery he was beginning to realize he'd like to unravel as long as she never got boring. He doubted that she ever would.

00000

A half an hour later Amber and Sherlock sat quietly around her small kitchen table nibbling on turkey sandwiches and spooning up fresh tomato basil soup. Sherlock had to admit she was a fabulous cook. He already knew she could bake, those cookies she had brought up for Halloween hadn't even lasted an hour after she left. But her food was even better than her cookies, even if it was just soup and a sandwich.

"So what do you think?" she asked after taking a sip from her glass of water.

"It's quite good," he mumbled as he ate some of his soup. It didn't taste overly like tomatoes and the basil wasn't too strong. It was a nice, soft balance which wasn't heavy as some tomato soups tended to be.

Amber laughed as she folded her arms on the table. "Thanks, I think."

"Where did you learn to cook?"

Her smile turned sad for a moment before it turned wistful and happy. "My mum began teaching me to cook when I was five. Mostly it was just grilled cheeses and the like but by the time I was eight, right before she was killed, I was already capable of making omelets and I was beginning to master baking. My aunt carried on what my mum had taught me, taking the time to teach her own children some skills in the kitchen. I can't say my cousins are as skilled as I am but they are capable, well not Mike. He can't cook to save his life." She laughed at the thought of her youngest cousin making anything more than a cold cut sandwich. "Bastard set my aunt's kitchen on fire one Christmas while trying to cook the turkey. He wasn't even frying it."

"You're close to your family." It was a statement not a question.

She nodded vigorously. "More so than I think is probably healthy." She laughed lightly at her own joke. "Truthfully my family has always been close. We're large and Scottish, go figure." Lifting a shoulder with a shrug she picked up the last piece of her sandwich taking a bite.

"You're mother's side of the family is large, what of your father's side?" He asked with genuine curiosity.

She thought for a moment. "I really don't know much of my father's side. I know he came from a small town outside of Edinburgh and his family was quite small. He had an older sister I believe but I think she died of cancer when she was just a teenager. He wasn't born rich but he wasn't poor either. As far as I know his own parents, my grandparents, died before I was actually born. My sisters and brother knew them but I never did. My mum's side is large, with three sisters and two brothers spread through Ireland and even America. I've got cousins spread throughout the world." She smiled fondly remembering the week she spent in New York visiting a couple of cousins her own age a few years back. She loved America but nothing was like Britain and Scotland. Home was home and nothing could change that.

He noted how her eyes drifted as she thought about her extended family. He knew she had traveled, just by the tone she used. He also knew that she loved Britain more than any place she had ever been. He read this all in her face, in her eyes, in the way she spoke. At least she wasn't talking about fear, about the death of her family, about the sadness she felt from their loss. Strong, so strong was she that it made him remember why he enjoyed her presence in the first place.

She smiled suddenly, a warm and slow smile as she folded her arms on the table and just looked at him. "Enough about me, seriously I'm pretty sure you've learned everything about me. Why don't we talk about you?" She was careful with the question already knowing that it might be a touchy subject. She had encountered people who hated to talk about their past, she wasn't so sure if Sherlock was that kind of person or not.

However Amber figure that he was after a couple of minutes of silence passed. He sat there, no longer eating, and trying not to look directly at her. "I—" he started to speak but the sound of a phone buzzing throw him off.

Raising one brow she just sighed already having some idea of who was calling at such an hour, especially since it wasn't her mobile ringing. It had to be one of two people. One of those people happened to be on a date with her friend and the other well, he never really did anything but work, at least that's what she thought. "Lestrade," was all Sherlock said before answering.

Seeing nothing better to do, Amber got up from the table grabbing her dishes as she went. She placed them in the sink before going back for Sherlock's not bothering to listen to the conversation. It was logical for her to believe that he would tell her after he hung up. She washed the dishes while she waited and that wait wasn't too long.

"More murder?" she asked leaning backwards against the counter, her nails tapping against the edge.

"No. Lestrade wanted me to let you know that unfortunately none of the fingerprints they obtained from your flat were usable. Also the allyway killer, as you so colourfully named him, has admitted to everything." Sherlock put his hands prayer style in front of his lips watching her, as if waiting for a particular response.

Amber closed her eyes, the memory of hands around her neck springing unbidden into her mind. She fought the urge to gasp the best she could and opened her eyes looking into his blue ones. "Did Lestrade say why he did it?"

"He did not. I am sure that tomorrow if you ask him he will be more than willing to tell you what he knows."

Nodding slowly, Amber jumped up onto the counter, not seeing anything else to do. "So no mayhem or chaos. You must be suffering."

"Suffering?"

"Yes," she said with a slow smile. She wasn't stupid and she knew he was lying about not understanding what she had said. "Like Halloween morning, without murder being a forefront of the days activities I thought you were going to tear up your flat. It would seem that if you don't have something to occupy your mind you get a bit nutty."

While he was surprised he didn't let it color his face. Perceptive, that was what she was and he knew that was why she worked so well with the police. Her perception allowed to catch things that might not be noticeable at first to a normal crime scene photographer. She was an asset, not just a girl with a camera, though he never doubted that she was. "Very good but no I am not suffering. I've got a case after all."

Amber raised a brow as she questioned, "And what case would that be?"

"Yours of course. Can't have a stalker breaking in and writing little messages now can we?" He actually teased her watching as her eyes lit up with surprise and excitement. He didn't realize however that this was what flirting was, a back and forth of witty comments and subtle teasing.

She just giggled then, a light sound that held a hint of gravel from her injured throat. "No we can't. It wouldn't do for me to find a note written on my walls. Heaven knows what Mrs. Hudson would do."

"Repaint most likely," he said offhandedly having not figured out that she was teasing him right back.

Rolling her eyes she hopped off the counter and walked by him, patting his arm hopelessly as she did so. However she smiled brightly knowing that he was more than a little confused as to what was going on between them. She knew though what she was doing, what he was doing even if he didn't know it. "I was teasing Sherlock," she said with a yawn as she walked to the living room with him following behind, a quizzical look upon his face.

_And oh what a face it is, _she thought in a flash and felt her cheeks flare suddenly. She had to hide her face in her arm, pretending to cough because of the soreness of her throat as she sat herself on the couch. Her thought wasn't a lie. His face was amazing and interesting to look at. He wasn't typically handsome, as she had noted upon their first meeting. He had high cheekbones, cheekbones that a woman might kill for if given the choice. His eyes were an icy blue sometimes slipping into gray depending on the lighting or what he wore, and his skin was pale but not sickly so. His face was like a piece of art and from time to time she couldn't take her eyes off it. Like now when he looked so confused and out of place. _To be the one that confused Sherlock Holmes, what a lovely thought. _

"Are you alright?" His question brought her out of her thoughts and back into reality.

She gave a quick smile. "Yes, of course why?"

"You seemed to be thinking quite intently and staring at me."

Her blush just got deeper. "Oh, well I do that sometimes, just drift off into my own mind. It's what normal people do from time to time. Sorry." She followed this with a yawn which she covered with a hand. She still felt the heat in her face and cursed herself and her fair coloring.

"I believe you should be going to bed now Amber." He pointed out noticing her yawn as well as see the blush tinting her white cheeks. But why was she blushing? What had he said that could have embarrassed her? Unless she was embarrassed about something she had done or thought? While he could deduce a persons life story he could not, however, read someones mind much to his annoyance.

Amber found herself yawning again despite her effort to not. "I'm not tired."

"Then why is are you yawning?"

"I could be bored?" She shrugged a shoulder.

He leveled his gaze on her. "Are you bored?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Then you must be tired."

"Are you tried?" She cocked her head to the side as she waited for him to answer the question she already knew the answer to.

"Not in the slightest," he said taking a seat in a chair opposite of her.

As much as she enjoyed this little battle they seemed to be having she was indeed starting to feel the days events taking their toll on her. While she was used to getting five hours of sleep she had even less than that the night before and it was beginning to show. She didn't want him to leave however. She yawned again.

Sherlock spoke before she could defend that yawn. "Amber, you have had a stressing couple of days, with the events of the gala and the break-in this morning. I think it would be wise if you were to go lay down and sleep."

"Sherlock, as much as I appreciate your concern for my health, though I believe it's just an excuse to snoop around my flat, I don't need yet another person telling me what to do. Megan has been telling me I need to rest, same with John. Mrs. Hudson is telling me I shouldn't spend the night alone here until the windows are fixed," she held up her hand before he could open his mouth to agree. "And I've got Lestrade telling me to take the time and relax. Please don't be another one of those annoying people who believe that they know better than I do." She huffed as she slumped back into the couch.

He didn't know whether to be put off or happy that she didn't just roll over and give into someone else instructions. "I am not trying to tell you what to do. I said I believe that you should get some rest and that it might be wise, not that you should do it."

With a heavy sigh she just rubbed at the back of her head. "Well then I suppose you are right. Rest would be a good idea but truthfully I don't want to."

"Worried?"

She lifted a shoulder delicately while nipping at her bottom lip. "A little I guess but who wouldn't be? I mean I had someone break into my flat while I was sleeping. I'm being stalked. Any person in their right mind would be worried."

"How about scared?"

This was starting to feel like a therapist session. If she wanted one of those she would have paid for one. "I've got the smartest man in England working my case, of course not." She lied only slightly.

Sherlock didn't point out her lie, just gave a flash of a smile. "I will stay here until Megan and John return from their date," he seemed to tense at the word 'date'. "If that will help that is."

Amber took a moment to think it over. Would she feel better if Sherlock stayed in her flat while she tried to get some sleep, at least for a little while? Would she feel safe and secure? The more she actually thought about it the more she began to realize that she did feel safe with him again and that meant that she was beginning to trust him with her life, since he could literally save hers if anything happened while she was sleeping. "Yes, it will actually as odd as that sounds."

"Not odd at all."

She smiled kindly as she got up. Despite her better judgment she went over to stand beside Sherlock. She took his hand and gave it a light squeeze before leaning down and giving him a soft kiss on his cheek. "Thank you Sherlock, for saving me the other night and for helping me with all this."

He didn't really know what to say but it wasn't as if she really gave him time to respond. Instead she just wandered off back to her bedroom saying goodnight as she shut the door with a soft click. He touched the spot on his cheek where her lips had come in contact with his skin. His face felt warm as he thought about the gesture and he felt a fluttering in his stomach. So many feelings came about inside him when she was around and he still had yet to figure them out. He believed it was time to have a chat with John, even if that did mean a little bit of teasing.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Review Please!**


	15. Chapter 14

**_Loyal readers: Sorry that this was missing. I hope you aren't mad at me. Just think of this as an extra chapter you get to read. _**

**_To New Readers: Ignore that first thing. _**

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing but Amber, Megan, and the plot!_**

* * *

**[014]**

In the two weeks since that night in her flat Amber had learned a great deal about herself. Namely, when she was bored she cleaned, baked, cooked, and decorated until she was nearly sick of herself. Her flat was now spotless; not a speck of dust from either the cat or the rabbit could be found. Her living room now was completely moved around with her numerous bookshelves placed against the far wall and her thin? was shoved in the corner between the wall and the fireplace. The books were now in order of genre and then within that they were alphabetical, something she had done out of pure boredom three days ago. As for decoration, her home now had an abundance of her own photography, both black and white as well as color, hanging in dark wooden frames. Little nicknacks from places she had been dotted the open spots on her bookshelves. There wasn't anything particularly feminine about her flat but it exuded the fact that she was a woman with mellow tastes who loved books and photography.

Her fridge was stalked with leftovers from meals she hadn't even eaten, meals that she would most likely eat for at least a week or more to come. The bottom shelf of the fridge itself was home to a row of cupcakes she doubted she would even eat before they went bad. Her freezer now held at least four different types of cookies totaling four dozen, not that she had counted. She had given John, Sherlock, and Mrs. Hudson at least half a dozen cookies each at some point over the week, until she had finally run out of baking supplies and was smart enough not to go to the store to get more.

Besides getting all that done, Amber had also found the time to help Megan move into a flat four streets down from Baker Street. Which was a three day excursion on its own right. Now her best friend was unpacked and falling into a regular schedule that involved going to work, spending time at Baker Street and going home. It wasn't uncommon for Megan to crash on Amber's sofa if she had the following day off but she knew that her friend would soon be spending those nights in someone else's flat in a completely different bed.

Now her activities had kept her busy for the first week of her paid, forced as she saw it, vacation. The seconds week, a week she hadn't expected to be taking off, she has spent the majority of her time with Sherlock and John. She even went along on some of their cases, enjoying the time out of her flat even if staying home would have been the better choice. The cases she went along with were usually the easy ones, none that involved homicide or anything of that kind, mostly they were just cases of burglary and the odd cases that appealed to Sherlock's curiosity. Basically the ones that were complicated enough to pose some kind of challenge but not enough to chase all the boredom Sherlock felt.

She liked those outings, liked being a part of a case where she wasn't just there to take the pictures and infer what might have happened. She liked getting to actually help, even if half the time Sherlock already knew what she was pointing out. It was just nice to be out in the city with two people she was becoming fond of. She was learning more of how Sherlock worked when the police weren't around, learned that what she had seen, the little glimpse of intelligence, was just the tip of the iceberg. She had always thought of herself as above average when it came to her brain but when she was standing next to Sherlock she felt like a stereotypical blond standing next to a genius with an IQ of more than one sixty. She wondered what he felt with her around. Was she just another one of those silly people who didn't know anything or was he beginning to value her?

That was one of the questions she had asked herself over the last two weeks. Before the gala, before she was hurt, she was merely a person Sherlock would have to work with and a person who was his neighbor. But now she was beginning to realize that he was treating her slightly different, as if she mattered to him even if he wouldn't admit it right yet. He asked John's opinions and asked him to deduce things pertaining to the case but always afterward he would ridicule or mock. When he asked her what she thought or what she could deduce he would simply smile, that wasn't saying he wouldn't throw out a snide remark about her lesser intelligence but he was never harsh. What did it mean? She just wanted to know but was hesitant to actually ask.

The only thing Amber had yet to do over this two week break of hers was to actually go on that date with Sherlock. Admittedly for the first few days following the gala incident and her own stalker scare she hadn't been up to even leaving her flat, the stress of all that having finally caught up to her. Yet in the days following that she had begun to heal. Her headaches cleared up, the lump on the back of her head went away, her throat had healed so that it no longer hurt to laugh loudly or scream at the top of her lungs. The bruise was the last thing to go, in fact it was sticking around still as she began to get ready for work the Monday after her paid medical leave was over. So why was it that Sherlock hadn't made good on his promise to take her out to dinner, just the two of them, when she was feeling better? She was beginning to worry it was because he really didn't want to take her out.

That thought was stewing in her mind as she sat aimlessly in the photo lab flicking through some of the photos on her flash drive which was plugged into her private laptop on the desk. There was enough downtime in the lab that she had nothing better to do than look through the pictures she had taken from some of the cases she had worked with Sherlock over the last two weeks. She, like John, had a blog running, something she had actually begun as a photoblog of her life in London and the less gruesome parts of her job. Now it had turned into a photoblog with little stories of the cases and the adventures of Sherlock and John. She never went into much detail, not in the way John did and she didn't focus on the science like Sherlock tended to favor. No, she enjoyed just writing little snippets and moments that related to the pictures. Sometimes those pictures were of the men working, some where of the location, some were actually from the cases themselves, ones she had snapped usually to Sherlock's annoyance and John's amusement.

So far she had managed to gain Sherlock's acceptance of the blog and John thought it was such a wonderful idea that he linked it in his own blog, even going so far as to attempt to link it in Sherlock's blog but sadly that idea had been shot down as Sherlock had emphatically made it known he wanted "nothing to do with this childishness". Of course Amber found ways around his ban on having her site linked with his and instead linked his blog inside of hers with the message to her readers to not mention the link, or blog for that matter, on Sherlock's site. She knew Sherlock would figure out what she had done eventually but for now his blog was embedded so far into her own that she doubted he would figure it out any time soon.

As she was flicking through the pictures marking which ones to upload so she would remember to put watermarks on them later, she never heard the footsteps coming from the hallway up towards the photo lab where she sat. She did however catch the knock and nearly slammed her laptop shut with such force it made her flinch hoping she hadn't busted it. She turned in the chair, plastering a smile on her face, to find herself looking at someone she hadn't expected to see.

Sally Donovan stood at the threshold of the lab looking none to please to be there. It was common knowledge that the darker skinned woman did not like the redhead, especially after learning that Amber was becoming friends with Sherlock. To see her there in the doorway looking uncomfortable and angry gave Amber a slight sense of pleasure. She could be very devilish and this was one of those moments.

"Need something Sally?" she said with false kindness in her voice. She didn't bother to get up, something she would have done if it had been Lestrade or even Anderson standing there. Anderson at least tolerated her as long as Sherlock wasn't around.

The woman shifted once from left to right. "Lestrade needs to see you," she coughed out as if it was the hardest thing for her to do. She didn't wait for a response, just left letting Amber figure out what that meant and why he had asked for her.

Raising a brow at the odd interaction that had just occurred, the redhead opened her laptop to find that she hadn't harmed the machine in anyway. She put the computer into sleep mode and tucked it away in a laptop sleeve and tucked it under her arm as she grabbed her bottle of water and left the office.

On her way to Lestrade's office, which was a couple of floors up, she ended up stopping to chat with a couple of her co-workers including one of the many photo techs like herself. It was nearly twenty minutes after Donovan's cryptic statement that she made it to Lestrade. He didn't looked pleased with having to wait but she smiled nonetheless.

"You needed to see me?" she asked as she plopped herself into a chair opposite of the slightly older man. He looked tired, as if he hadn't gotten much sleep in the last couple of days. That was completely possible. He was a cop after all and he did have a number of open cases as well as new ones coming in every day. She hadn't been into work in two weeks so it was likely he had caught a case that was keeping him awake late at night when most of the city was tucked safely in bed.

He rubbed his forehead after a second of silence. Amber knew that movement all to well. It was the expression of a person who didn't have good news and wasn't sure how to break it. In the split second it took for him to respond after rubbing his face every bad scenario played through her head. The scenes ranged from learning of the death of someone close to her to finding out the bastard who had tried to kill her had been released on a technicality.

She began to nibble at her bottom lip, a habit she was beginning to notice when she got nervous or even worried in general. "Spit it out." She prompted having grown tired of the silence which was making her jumpy. Leave it to her not to tactful while speaking to someone who could report her to her actual boss.

This seemed to break the tension that had wrapped itself around Lestrade leaving the man laughing lightly at her tactless speech. "You make it so much easier to talk about things that aren't easy to talk about."

Amber gave a light laugh before falling silent with her gaze falling on the man who still looked uncomfortable but a little more at ease. To her that meant that what ever the reason she was there wasn't as bad as her mind kept telling her it was. "I tend to do that. Some call it a gift others say I'm bloody annoying. So why am I here Greg?"

"Well it's nothing bad—well nothing too bad that is. It's certainly not pleasant, for me or for you."

She raised a brow at his cryptic message. She was good at reading into things but this time she couldn't figure it out even if she tried. "Best to get it out in the open. I'd really like to get back to work." A little lie but she didn't have some things she needed to see to concerning the alleyway killer.

"That won't be happening today Amber," Lestrade said with another rub of his forehead knowing that she was about to explode. He could see it on her face, the way her eyes darkened and her face flushed with heat. He knew what happened when women got angry, he'd seen his wife with that exact same look on her face and it never ended peacefully for him. He was wishing at that very moment that he had made Donovan or even Anderson tell her what he was about to say.

"What the hell?" She screeched out like a harpy yet she still managed to keep her self seated in her chair.

Lestrade rubbed at his temples this time thankful she hadn't flown into a full rage like some women would have. "I'm not saying you're fired Amber, calm down."

With her feathers still ruffled she settled down, her arms crossed over her chest as she now glared at the man she sometimes called a friend. "Explain," was all she ground out between clenched teeth as she watched the cop flinch at her harshness.

He sighed. "What I meant to say was that after the incident at the gala two weeks ago it has been advised that you get mandated—"

Amber growled before he could finish his sentence. "You better pray that you aren't about to say what I think you are."

"Amber there is nothing you can do about it. You have to go see the therapist or you will be fired. It works the same way with active duty police officers. It makes it even worse that you are not a police officer and I put you in that position. You have to see this woman Amber."

"Good lord I haven't had to see a therapist in nearly eight years, this is going to be a bit awkward," she tried to make it sound joking but all she could feel was a sick churning in her stomach at the thought of having to talk about problems that didn't exist. She loved her job and that was the only reason she knew she would see this woman, as Lestrade had referred to the therapist as. "How long?" The question didn't need to be elaborated anymore than those two words.

"As of right now, only once. Depending on what occurs during the session will decide if you need some more help." Lestrade held up his hands in defense at her growl. "I am not saying you need help Amber, but what happened to you isn't easy for anyone to go through. This is just to make sure that you are alright to do your job."

Amber tilted her head in a questioning fashion. "I do photography. I don't think what happened will have any impact on my work."

"This isn't my choice Amber but you have to. Your first session in scheduled for around four. The therapist's name is Ronda Latimer. You can find her—"

She sighed. "I know where to find her, trust me I know. That woman has been trying to get me to talk to her since she learned about my background. She wants to know how my personal issues helped influence my professional decisions. Do I really have to see her?" She asked once more just to clarify that she had to do this.

Lestrade nodded, confirming that she had to.

"Damn it." Was all she said as she pushed out of her chair and left the office. She looked at her watch as she strode down the hall noting that she had about two and a half hours until she had to see the therapist. She planned on making the best out of these next couple of hours which meant she was taking off of work, since she couldn't work anyways, and going out for a bit to eat before that damned session.

This time as she was walking she didn't stop to talk to anyone. She headed in silence to her office where she gathered her things and locked her desk pocketing her keys afterward. A couple of her co-workers looked at her with concern since she was leaving in the middle of a work day. She didn't bother stopping to quell their concern and continued on. She hated therapists with such a blindly bright passion that it was nearing on idiotic. However she was stuck with this onetime meeting that would more than likely turn into a weekly session in which she would want to strangle the therapist with a tie or whatever rope like object close to her.

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Stepping out onto the street she took in a deep breath of the city air. Granted the air wasn't as clean as it was in the country but it wasn't the freshness she was breathing in, it was the fact that she was free of the stifling building. She wouldn't admit it out loud but she had felt trapped after learning she had to see a therapist.

How many times had her aunt, uncle, and cousins told her that getting some kind of therapy would help her heal from the losses she has suffered? How many times had they said the nightmares wouldn't go away without professional help? How many times did they force her to go to her sessions when she refused to move from her room for days on end?

There were so many of those questions and all of them had been pushed to the very back of her mind until that very moment as she looked at the bustling city wondering how many of those people sought out a therapist's help. She wondered if any of them sought help because they needed to or if it was because they thought they needed help.

She sighed with a sharp shake of her head before walking down the street to the a certain cafe she favored. Amber always liked being greeted by name by the owners. She didn't even have to give them her order because they had gotten to know her so well over the past few months she had been working with the Yard.

Paying for her meal she chatted with one of the workers for a couple of minutes while she was waiting for her food. As she ate she sipped her coffee and watched everyone, the questions about who sought professional help and who didn't still floating through her mind.

She drew out her free time as long as she could and she finally realized that she had to leave. She bid everyone she knew goodbye and disappeared out of the cafe. She didn't bother to hustle her way back to the Yard, but instead took her time. She knew she would be late but she didn't really give a damn in the end.

Five minutes late, she knocked on the door of Dr. Ronda Latimer. When she heard the word entry Amber waltzed on in, dropping herself onto the farthest chair from the desk. There was the stereotypical lounge chair and even a box of tissues.

"You're late Ms. Devons." The woman was distinctly American, a transplant no doubt but several years removed. Her accent was starting to change but it would still be quite sometime before she sounded fully British.

"I am quite aware and it's Miss not Ms," she corrected in a bored tone bordering on cold. "You must be thrilled to finally have me sitting in your office."

"I would be lying if I didn't say this is a pleasure but I don't think you would appreciate if I actually did."

"You'd be correct."

"So proper, more proper than when you interact with your co-workers. You have an aversion to therapists don't you."

Amber shrugged a shoulder gracefully. "You could say I'm not a fan, yes. I was forced as a child and teenager to see a therapist just as I am being forced to sit with you this very second." Precise and calm, giving no emotion away. This was how she had to play it.

"Hm," Latimer said as she wrote down something in a notebook. "I wonder why that is."

Rising a delicate brow, the redhead fought the urge to snort. "This isn't what I'm here to talk about. I'd like to stick to the reason I'm here so I can get this over with and be cleared to work again. This is not going to be a regular thing." She stated pointedly waiting for a snark response.

She didn't have to wait long. "I will remind you that whatever I decide will influence whether or not you go back to work as well as whether you see me again on a more regular basis."

That was the snapping point. Amber slammed her hands on the arms of her chair, lifted herself up, reached for her bag and growled. "I am not some toy for you to manipulate and bend to your whim because you see it fit. I do not care, nor do I give a fuck, what you have to say. I am in perfect mental health and I do not have to deal with this. If you don't write that I am fit to work I will quite and find a new job. There are plenty of universities who have been clambering to have me as a professor or a guest lecturer. I have magazine editors begging me to work for them."

She stood there for a minute, panting as she realized she had just let out two weeks worth of pent up anger towards everything out on the woman who was only trying to help her. However she was not about to sit back down and act like a docile little girl who had just had a tantrum and was now willing to be told what to do.

Latimer realized in almost five seconds that Amber was not the relenting type. She also realized that she had been in the wrong. "I apologize for what I said. You are here merely to speak about what happened the night of the undercover gala incident, nothing more. You're past and the problems you are currently facing with it, are of no concern here. So please have a seat. I promise not to stray from the topic at hand and know that it is my training if I do."

Slightly placated by the words the blond spoke, Amber slipped herself back into her chair and dropped her bag once more realizing that she had been about to leave her computer on the ground. "I would apologize for my outburst but I don't feel sorry about it."

"You are a straight shooter aren't you?" Dropped was the professional tone and it was replaced with a more natural and kinder one.

Amber could not help the small smile that graced her mouth. "I suppose I am. It annoys people."

"Is it a defense mechanism?"

She shook her head. "No I've always been this way for as long as I can remember. I once witnessed my mum and dad having sex when I was about seven. They hadn't realized I had seen them. I had older siblings who had taught me a little about the act itself so the next morning I bluntly asked while having breakfast if the sex they had last night had been enjoyable. My mum snorted milk out her nose in her embarrassment and my dad nearly choked on his toast. He fled the kitchen faster than I had ever seen him move while my sisters and brother were quite literally rolling on the floor laughing. My mom was redder than my hair at that point. So I've always gotten straight to the point."

This short story made the older doctor laugh, not just a polite laugh but a full blown one that lasted for several minutes. She finally cleared her throat. "So tell me how did you feel the night you were attacked at the gala."

Amber hesitated. She had tried not to talk about this, or to even think about it. There was no escaping it now she supposed. "I was scared. Terribly scared to be truthful."

"I hear that you talked with the man. That you managed to keep him occupied until someone could find you. That must have taken will power to keep yourself from screaming."

"It wasn't as hard as you would imagine. I don't know. Maybe I'm naturally inclined to keeping a level head in such situations or maybe I'm just cold enough that things don't affect me much. All I know is that while I might have kept a calm head I was screaming in my mind. I just wanted someone to find me before he could do something worse."

"I hear it was Sherlock Holmes who found you."

"Yes," Amber smiled brightly at the mention of him.

"How is your relationship with him?" A little personal but she could deal with that. In fact she expected a couple of personal questions.

She sighed again. "We don't have much of a relationship. He's my neighbor and from time to time I work cases with him both for the Yard and for himself. I suppose I would call him a friend."

"But you want more am I correct?"

Amber's eyes nearly bugged out of her face. "No, where the bloody hell did you hear that?"

Latimer chuckled this time writing down her reaction. "From the way you look while talking about him. You know I have seen Sherlock around here. In fact Lestrade wanted him to speak with me but he refused. He is a might handsome man."

There was a flare of jealousy but she hid it just as well as she hid the fear that night at the gala. "You aren't the first to notice I assure you but no I don't wish for anything more with him. We'd burn one another out in a matter of days no doubt."

"You have thought about him romantically then?"

Amber realized that Latimer was going to beat that dead horse for a while if she kept evading the question. "Fine. Yes, I have thought about it. Can we not focus on this please? It is not what is important here is it?"

"You're right. What did you feel after the attack and what have you felt these last couple of weeks while on leave?" The doctor once more wrote in her little book.

She thought for a moment. "After the attack all I could think about was getting the hell out of the hotel and how thankful I was that I hadn't been killed. Selfish of me yes but it had been my life on the line in that moment. Then I was scared. More scared than I had been in quite some time. As for the last few weeks? Well I've been bored out of my mind. I've baked until my oven nearly broke and my fridge is stocked with food I'll probably never eat. My flat is so clean you could literally pick a surface and eat on it. There isn't even a trace of either of my animals in the flat."

"I can assume you are happy to get back to work?"

"Oh God yes. I can not explain in mere words how happy I am to be somewhere else than my flat. I was going a tad but nuts to say the least. This little interlude hasn't been enjoyable, learning that I can't work until I get the stamp of approval from you."

"Truly I am sorry for this session to have hindered your work. You have to understand that you are not an officer and what you went through is rare for someone who is not a cop." Amber noticed several of her words being more American but she got the point. "The higher ups really do not want you to go back to work, mainly because of your connect to Sherlock and partially because of your intelligence. But I have to be honest, I've seen your blog, the one you keep for the cases you have been working with Sherlock as well as your normal blog. You're photos are quite good and I can see why Lestrade and everyone else who works with you has pushed to have you here. You have an amazing eye and you do notice things that others don't. That leads to my next question. Why don't you become a detective?"

Amber had thought about this before, several times actually. What stopped her from doing just that? "I won't lie. I've thought about it, a lot in the last few weeks really. But every time I think about it I realize the work it would take to get to that point. I don't want to start from the bottom. I don't want to have to work traffic or be a uniformed officer. That is what I'd have to do to become a detective and it takes to much time. Plus I like what I do. I like taking the photos that are used to help put away the bad people. It doesn't seem like we photographers do much but we are the backbone of the operation because without what we photograph people would get off. They would not go to prison and the victims would not have the justice they rightfully deserve."

"Passionate, you really are. Lestrade is right to fight for you."

"Thanks I think." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat wondering if the session was over.

"From what I can tell you are very stable and you seem to be handling yourself quite well. Do you suffer from any nightmares concerning anything that has happened lately?" Latimer was leading and Amber knew this. However it was important that these basic questions be asked.

She rubbed her neck. "For the first couple of nights after the gala I did experience nightmares, not violent ones but ones that would have me waking up in a slight panic but that never lasted long. I also kept having flashbacks at first as well. Whenever anyone would ask what happened I would remember the feel of hands on my neck but as the days drifted by and the memory slipped deeper back behind new ones it stopped. Yes I still panic when someone says strangling or strangulation but I no longer feel the urge to escape the situation."

"That's good. Do you feel that you would need to talk with me more about what has happened?"

At this Amber could not help the snort. She laughed a bit after a second. It was an uncomfortable laugh as the doctor just stared at her. "I am so sorry. I didn't mean to do that. I just—obviously I don't like therapists so you know my answer to that."

"Yes but I want to hear it from you. I want you to be honest. Take away the fact that I am a therapist and think of me as a regular person. Do you think that you would need to speak more on this?"

Amber thought about it this time. Truly thought it through. Did she need to talk more about what happened at the gala? Should she seek some more help? She did still feel some panic when thinking about that night. In fact she was sitting here trying not to bolt at the mere memory of the night in questions. She remembered the fear that had coursed through her body in Lestrade's office when she had thought that her attacker had been freed. Did she really need help?

Giving into the hard truth she sighed, dropping her head and rubbing her face with a hand. "I hate admitting this but I might. I just might."

"How about you come back to speak with me once a month, or whenever you need to talk. You are free and clear to go back to work. I see nothing that would hinder your work or require mandated sessions." Latimer's voice was soft, kind and caring.

Amber nodded. "That sounds fine. I'll call you in a couple of days to set up an appointment. I don't want Lestrade knowing that I'm see you thought." She found herself twisting the edges of her blouse. She sighed as she realized how she felt, all the fight had left her body the moment she had ranted when first talking to the doctor. When did she become this helpless? Helpless to the point she had to talk her fears out with someone she had hated.

"I won't say a word. You can go now. I'll let Lestrade know you're all clear to go."

Amber gave her thanks and a goodbye as the doctor nodded and picked up her phone. She grabbed her laptop bag and her purse. She felt a little lighter in the heart as she opened the door to the office to leave. She was tired though, mentally not physically.

As soon as she made it back down to the floor with Lestrade's office she spotted Sherlock striding out of the office in question. He spotted her, quickening his pace to meet up with her just as she turned on her heel to get to the lift. Sherlock was the last person she wanted to see in that moment.

"What?" She snapped as she pressed the down button of the lift. Sherlock stood beside her quiet as a mouse.

She stepped into the lift still not having gotten an answer from the tall consulting detective. "I'll reiterate: What?"

"Do you still wish to go on that date?"

Shocked she turned to him, the surprise written all over her face. "What?"

"I asked do you still want to go on that date?" He was becoming annoyed.

"Um," she said stupidly. How was it that this man could make her lose her IQ in the space of two seconds. "I know what you asked. Why do you ask?"

"Because I believe I have some evidence in your case."

"What case?"

He sighed and turned to her this time, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement at her utter stupidity at that moment. "Your stalker Amber. The one who broke into your flat while you were sleeping. Remember? Or have you forgotten it already?"

She knew he was teasing but it still stung a bit. "Of course I haven't forgotten. What have you found out?" She asked still avoiding answering that date question.

"Do you want that date or not?" This was a game she knew it.

"Yes, yes I do but not if you are just using it as an excuse to talk to me about my case." She hissed even though she wasn't angry at him, not really. Okay maybe a little but not as much as a normal person would be.

The lift doors dinged open at the first floor. "It is not an excuse. I'd enjoy dining with you." With that Amber stood there in shock once more, her jaw hanging open. She couldn't be sure if Sherlock had just admitted attraction to her or if he was just teasing her, playing at her heart.

A person clearing their throat in front of her snapped her out of it. She raced after Sherlock, not sure how the hell she was going to respond to that statement. All she knew was that it felt like a hundred thousand butterflies were fluttering in her stomach and trying to escape.


	16. Chapter 15

**Older readiners: Replaced, I apologize.****  
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**New Readers: Continue on as normal.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but Amber, Megan, and the plot.**

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**[015]**

Standing in front of her mirror, Amber stared hard at herself. She was pretty much naked, save for a bra and underwear. She hadn't actually done this since her ex-husband, looked at herself carefully that was. She hadn't ever really cared how she looked, nor spent any amount of time attempting to make herself look any different than she did every day. Sure she added a bit of makeup from time to time but she couldn't remember the last time she had actually given herself a good once over in a full length mirror. She couldn't even remember having done that in highschool. She had never been vain, never really cared, until now that was.

She still looked like herself. Still had the same build as she had when she was in her early twenties, yet a few minor things had changed about her body over the years. Her once slender hips were now wider set from the pregnancy and she had a scar along her lower belly from the cesarean section from said pregnancy. Her chest was still the same size it had been and her skin was only marred from the occasional tumbles she had taken over the years, mostly from those in her youth. She had been a bit of a tomboy after all.

Her green eyes were still lined with the bags of stress from the previous weeks but they were finally slipping into merely light bruises that would fade with more time and rest. Her hair was still a mess of wild copper curls yet with each day that passed it was getting longer. She knew this because unlike last month she could now get it up into a ponytail, a makeshift one where it looked like a little stub but a ponytail nonetheless.

Sighing, she turned away from her form, curious as to why people said she was stunningly gorgeous. Maybe it was her own basis, maybe it was low self-esteem, but whatever it was she just couldn't see what others saw. She saw an average young woman with decent looks who could get by in the world quite well. Sure her shade of red hair wasn't as common as blond or brown and her skin was ivory, which wasn't uncommon. The only thing remarkable about herself she could find was her hair but at this point in her life she didn't care about looks, at least not as much as some her age. It was what was on the inside that really matter, both about herself and others. She had learned that lesson years ago through circumstances she wouldn't wish upon her worst enemy.

Without much more of a thought to her looks she went about flicking through her closet to see if she had anything to wear that she hadn't already worn. Sherlock had said that she should dress casually but not overly so. Something moderately dressy yet comfortable enough that she wouldn't mind wearing it for a long amount of time. This truly had stumped her. She had comfortable clothing, like the stuff she wore everyday, and she had dressy clothing, like the stuff she wore for meetings. Finally she had formal clothing, the things she wore to flashy events, usually the ones her aunt blackmailed her into attending in London. But comfortable and dressy clothing? She wasn't sure if those even existed in her world.

It was a stretch for her to find something that was both comfortable and slightly dressy but she managed to do just that after tearing through her closet until all her clothing was spread across her room. It looked as if a tornado had rushed in, swirled everything about, and left everything where it fell. Despite the mess, she pulled out an plum colored cotton sweater dress, the only remotely comfortable and slightly dressy thing she owned. It was perfect for the coolness of the evening and comfortable enough that she wouldn't mind wearing it for a while if needed. With this she paired a sleet colored pair of cotton leggings and a pair of low, strappy heels that were matte black.

She tried the outfit with a thick belt wrapped around her waist finding that it made her look a little more full in the hips than she really was. She added that up to a vain moment and ended up ditching the belt. Making a grab for her makeup bag she headed for the bathroom fully dressed minus the shoes.

Amber quite literally poured the contents of the rather large bag into the sink in a futile attempt to find something that worked with the dark tone dress hugging her body. She didn't want flashy and she didn't want vibrant. She just wanted something soft and pretty and subtle. While she contemplated what makeup to use she played with her hair.

Up or down? Curled or straight? Grabbing a couple of bobby-pins and a brush she pulled her hair back and pinned her usually unmanageable curls into a makeshift bun. When she looked at herself in the mirror she liked what she saw, her neck was on display but her face seemed a bit harsh without anything framing it, especially if she didn't want to wear her glasses. An idea hit her and she shook her head causing a few curls to break free of their bonds falling around her face.

She was now satisfied with the messy yet put together look she had going on with her hair. Without anything to distract her from makeup this time she had to think about what makeup to wear once more. She still wasn't sure but in the end she grabbed for what seemed neutral yet matched her outfit.

This was the first time in a long time she found herself wanting to look pretty for a man, even if that man was more likely to notice what she had done that day rather than what she was wearing for him. She could have stood stark naked in front of him and he still wouldn't have responded with much more than a dull look.

_That's not true, _the little voice in the back of her mind shouted as she remembered the look on his face after he had walked in on her in the bath. She knew he wouldn't admit it, ever, but when she had walked back into the living room wrapped in only a robe and nothing more with her curls wild around her face he had looked at her with utter lust. It had only lasted a second but it had been there, clear as day, a quiet and quick reminder that he was human, not the machine he seemed to think he was. He was capable of caring, of wanting, of needed human contact, of needing the soft touch of a woman.

She might have been reading to much into that one look but she hoped she hadn't. She was good at seeing things, reading things in people. Call it years of people watching and years of therapy sessions which gave her not only an insight into her own mind and actions but those of everyone around her. It didn't matter if Sherlock was a sociopath or not, she could read him. She could read his emotions like he could read her past. They were two very different books but both were being read. She wondered if she was reading him right. She hoped so, more than she realized.

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"Oh my Lord! Would you sit down?! You're bloody annoying, you know." Megan shouted from her spot sprawled belly down on Sherlock and John's couch. She had long ago tossed her magazine away onto the already growing pile of papers on the floor. She had found that it was more entertaining to watch Sherlock pace around the flat, that was fifteen minutes ago. However, now it was beginning to grate on her nerves. She was ten seconds away from standing up, smacking him on the head, and going downstairs to Amber's flat to see what was taking the redhead so long to get ready.

John put down his paper sighing at his girlfriend who had just yelled at his best friend. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Megan and Sherlock did not get along, that much he had learned in the last few weeks of their acquaintance and he didn't see that situation lessening any time soon. "Meg, he's not going to sit down. Just leave him alone. He probably doesn't even realize that we're here with him." He tried to reason with the dark haired woman who only pouted while flipping over to stare at the ceiling like a child who was being told to stop doing something she clearly enjoyed doing.

"I am well aware that you two are here in the same room as I am. You do not need to act as if I am not here." Sherlock's tone was distant but more than slightly annoyed at Megan's interference in his actions.

"Okay then. Would you please stop pacing? You're making Meg and I nervous. Meg mostly," he stated as she picked his paper back up to begin reading again as if this type of conversation was the most natural in the world to be having.

For once Sherlock actually did as he was told, which caught them both by surprise. He took his seat in his chair all the while staring at the open door to the hallway. He did not know why he was so anxious, for lack of a better way of describing what he was feeling. He wouldn't say he was nervous, that wasn't it at all. He just—well he didn't know what he felt really. All he knew was that he couldn't wait for Amber to come up from her flat and grace him with her presence. Ever since he had seen her nude in her tub through that foggy water he couldn't help but find himself nervous around her. He had seen woman naked before, namely Irene Adler, and he had never felt the way he did now. Sure he had been slightly stunned when Irene had greeted him in nothing, but that had been all despite what John or anyone else said about the encounter.

"Have you ever actually been on a date with a woman?" Megan's grating voice drew him out of his mind once more. He was beginning to find the brunette a little more than annoying. He understood the concept of her being John's girlfriend and Amber's best friend but he didn't understand why she was always hanging around his flat. She was always butting into his business and bothering him when he was in the middle of an experiment. She should be pestering Amber though he figured the redhead would have smacked her about when she became to annoying.

Sherlock sighed heavily. "I am well aware of what a date entails. My brother made it clear to me when I was sixteen."

Chuckling, Megan sat up from her sprawled out position stretching the back of her head slightly and fluffing her hair. These actions caught the attention of the good doctor but only for a split second. "Knowing how to date, as in the mechanics, is something different than actually having been on a date in real life. Without real experience of this particular social custom you have no idea what to expect do you?"

Slightly stunned, Sherlock gave her a small once over realizing that she wasn't as dumb as he had perceived before. He wasn't saying that she was intelligent by any means but at least she was smarter than Anderson. "In college I was forced to go on a date with a girl who was a friend on an acquaintance. Everyone believed if I had sex I wouldn't be as annoying." He said this with little emotion. The date had not been enjoyable for either party and they had called the evening off after a terrible dinner that included him reading her like she was an open book and upsetting her. Of course he never spoke to her again and never spoke to the one who had set them up in the first place. He had realized at that point that dating was pointless and not worth his time. Social activities like that didn't appeal to him and frankly they confused him.

"That was what, ten years ago, give or take a year or two? You haven't dated since then?" It was still Megan and she was still annoying but at least he wasn't as wrapped up in the fact that he was nervous about going out with Amber any longer. He had something else to occupy his mind. He wondered if Megan would be adverse to having her life story read. John had refused to allow him to do that and he was beginning to really want to. It wasn't as if John could stop him, he already knew.

Annoyance flaring once more with all the questions, Sherlock gave another sigh. "No, I have not dated since, not in the traditional sense. I have gone on dates for the sake of cases and only if they are helpful. I find dating monotonous and pointless."

"So this is the first date you've been on with an actual woman you like?" While he had found Megan annoying before he found her even more annoying seeing as she kept asking question after question, questions that he had basically answered already. Granted her insistent questions were causing the nervousness about his impending date to disappear, he would not thank her for that. She was annoying and he wished she would just leave. Thanking her would keep her around longer than he cared to have her around.

"Megan!" John shouted a little too forcefully even to his own ears. "Why don't you go downstairs and help Amber get herself ready. I'm sure she would enjoy, if not appreciate, the help." He wasn't as angry as he spoke but he was just as forceful with his order as he had been when getting her attention.

Grumbling and pretty much being pushed out the front door of the flat, she did as she was told. She was angry but she still blew a kiss towards her boyfriend before flouncing down the stairs making sure to put a little extra sway in her step all the while chattering on about something or another throwing in a few swears for good measure.

Sherlock watched his flatmate stare hopeless at the retreating figure of the brunette. He felt the unfamiliar pang of longing that strummed through his lean body. He had never felt that before. No matter how many times he saw a man looking at a woman with such a look had he ever felt so at a loss. He couldn't understand what he was feeling, all he knew was that he was feeling it. He didn't like this new found feeling, not one bit. He had always been so in control of his emotions and now he felt the loss of control. It made him feel weak.

Megan had long since disappeared down the stairs yet John was still looking there as if she were standing right before him and not in the flat below. It took another two minutes or so before the man snapped out of his stupor and walked slowly back into the flat. He sat himself in his chair, a habit that was so familiar it was almost like breathing. Not long ago this scene would not have been possible seeing as Sherlock had supposedly been dead. For months John had suffered, so many months of missing his best friend, of missing the man who had helped him transition from solider to civilian so seamlessly. He hadn't known what to do with himself but over night that had changed and here he sat with Sherlock in their old flat like those months had never happened.

They sat there silent for what felt like an eternity. Sherlock was wrapped in his own mind with his fingers steepled in front of his mouth, the posture he took when deep in thought. His mind rampant with thoughts running from Amber's case to his impending date. He didn't even realize that John was talking until he heard the soft chuckle he had come to realize was the sound Amber made when she was amused and trying to be polite about it.

Before he stood or even let on that he knew she was in the room, he took her in for a moment. He noticed the dress first, a plum colored cotton affair which hugged her frame. She had gained a little weight since moving into Baker Street, he noted not unpleasantly. He found that he didn't like wisps of woman. She was wearing a pair of leggings under the dress, most likely to ward off the cold that had been weaving its way into the London nights. Her hair was pinned up in such a fashion that little curly locks sprung free to frame her face.

As she moved into the flat and closer to him he saw that her eyes were framed with a light plum colored shadow and her lips were glossed in pinkish red. She wasn't wearing her glasses, a rare sight he was beginning to realize since he almost always saw her in glasses. Her eyes seemed brighter with an emotion he couldn't put a name to.

"Sherlock?" she questioned, her tone soft as she stooped by his chair careful to be as ladylike as possible in her outfit.

"Yes?" He finally broke his silence.

She smiled and said, "Are you ready to go?"

He gave a smile, albeit a small one, in her direction before standing while she slipped on her habitual woolen peacoat. "Yes," he finally said after putting on his coat and scarf offering her an arm as he had learned was customary in such situations.

She shook her head as she linked her arm with his. He felt the small thrill that came with her touch, even through his coat. It was a pleasant feeling despite the confusion it caused in his mind. He watched John and Megan look at them with utter surprise. He wasn't sure why they were surprised with either of them. This was what normal people did. They dated. Maybe it was because they weren't normal, him and Amber that was.

"See you lot later," Amber grinned as they waltzed out the front door. She was clearly enjoying the confusion written on her friends' faces. Sherlock wasn't adverse to thinking that he too took some joy in it as well. It was always good to keep those close to him on their toes. If not, well, life got a little boring for them all.


	17. Chapter 16

_**Old readers: I apologize for taking this down and having to repost it. Things got a little confused. If I were you I'd just got back and reread for chapter 15 on since chapter 15 was replaced with the actual chapter it was supposed to be since I kind of forgot to add it XD Please don't hate me. **  
_

_**New Readers: Continue on as normal!**_

_I apologize for taking so long to actually get this chapter out. I promised this would be out earlier but my finals week was a bit hellish. So here's the promised chapter. Hope you all enjoy it. _

_To my reviewers, I know I usually give you all a little personal response but I have figured I've made you wait long enough that I'd just say thank you at once and give you all a virtual hug! Next time I promise I'll write personal little responses :) Oh and a large thank you to those of you who have put this on their favorite/follow list._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock...but I kind of wish I did at moments. I do own Amber, Megan, and the plot as you all already know. _

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**[016]**

_Well this is going fantastic, _Amber thought to herself. She and Sherlock were currently sitting in a small yet intimate restaurant in SoHo. She had passed the place at least a dozen times since moving to London and she gathered that Sherlock had figured out she wished to dine there. The place was dimly lit, but not so much that her vision was diminished and it wasn't as packed full of people as she thought it would have been. Seeing as it was a week day evening most people were at home because they had to go to work the following morning.

She smiled over her house salad while watching Sherlock pick at his own appetizer. "You don't seem to be eating much. Is everything alright?"

"Why would anything be wrong?" His blue eyes bore into hers across the table causing a shiver to run up and down her spin. She was beginning to enjoy those little shudders, they let her know that she was still alive and still needed to feel that connection between herself and a man.

"When you don't have a case you eat more. I know you don't have a case,"

He cut her off before she could finish. "I have your case."

"A real case Sherlock. Besides a couple of misguided packages and a break-in, I don't think that constitutes as much of a case." She chuckled before nibbling on a piece of blue cheese covered lettuce. The salad was delicious, one of the best she had had in a small restaurant in quite some time.

"I assure you that whoever has fixated on you is a more interesting case than I have taken on in quite some time."

"How so?" she cocked a brow as she asked, truly curious. How could a simple stalker case be as interesting as those she knew he had solved in the past. She remembered all of John's blog posts and all of them rated higher than some creep followed a twenty something year old girl around London taking pictures and mailing them to her.

Sherlock gave a cocky flash of a smile. "For one you are my neighbor and your welfare directly affects mine seeing as if someone were to break into your flat, as they already have, the assailant could break into my flat to cause harm to John and I. Or Mrs. Hudson for that matter."

Giving a nod of her head, she agreed having not really thought of that before. "Point well taken but that can't be the only reason you've taken such a keen interesting."

"No it is not. Another would be the fact that your case provides an interesting insight into the human mind. What could cause another person to following someone such as you?"

Raising a brow once more she tried to decide if he was insulting her or if he was paying her some form of a compliment. "I'd say a mad man but you seem to be following me as well." She played with a piece of lettuce as she watched him more intently than her food. She wasn't here for the food after all, she was here for Sherlock and no one else. "Are you mad?" She wasn't asking if he was mad in the sense of emotions but rather in his mental state. She watched as a grin flashed across he face before it was replaced with a small smirk that had her heart fluttering in her chest. Oh he was a mad man alright, just the right kind of mad that sent her heart racing and her mind reeling.

"I've been accused of being such but no, I am not. Are you?"

At this she snorted, very unladylike, and got the attention of those around her. She tilted her head down as she waited for her blush to wear off leaving her skin once again pale with a lightly dusting of pink. "Of course I have, who hasn't? I believe my brother was killed. I've had all manner of people believing I'm a raving nutter. None of it is true though. I'm quite sound of mind. In fact I was tested before I took this job at the Yard. They wanted to make sure I wasn't going to off myself at the first sight of a crime scene. Don't know why they'd think I would. I was working for a homicide division before I transferred." She gave a shrug of her shoulder as she pushed some of her food around with her fork. "I think it was just to put me through some hoops so to speak. They'd just lost a good photographer to suicide, you know the stress of the job and all. I suppose they just wanted to make sure I was stable."

"They found you to be perfectly okay with dead bodies then?"

Amber smiled. "I wouldn't be sitting here if they hadn't now would I? Though I believe there was a little cause for worry when I showed little to no issue with my first homicide in this city. Lestrade thought it was odd that a little thing like me could handle such a gruesome sight, in fact I was smiling at the first scene I worked. I will never forget the look on Anderson and Sally's face. I believe that's where I went wrong with the two of them, showed a little to much of my curious and morbid side." She laughed full out now at herself.

Sherlock gave a simple nod. "You have to enjoy what you do or else it becomes tedious."

"Murder never becomes tedious, at least not often. I work more than homicide when I'm needed. Helps to fight the boredom sometime. Which reminds me, before we get onto my case, I was working a scene today—"

"Today was your day off was it not?"

Rolling her green eyes she stuffed a bit of food into her mouth, chewed and took a drink of wine before continuing on. "I get called in often on my days off. London is a large city and when I say we've got a lack of staff, trust me. Us photographers can only be in so many places at so many times and not everyone on the forensics teams know how to handle a camera properly. I wouldn't trust Anderson with my camera even if he was a trained circus monkey, and I believe those little fellas are smarter than him."

At that Sherlock tried not to laugh but a little noise escaped causing her smile to explode across her face. If she could make him laugh, even a little bit, at an off colour joke than she knew he wasn't just here with her because she offered what he had called an interesting case. She wanted for him to quiet down an look at her expectantly. "Back on topic," she started. "I was working a burglary scene this afternoon at a museum, I'm not at liberty to speak about which one seeing as the case is high profile, but I have it on good authority that this is not the first place to be robbed and the police are stumped."

"Nothing new there," Sherlock snorted taking a drink of his own wine. She had noted, at the start of dinner when he had ordered his food, that this was probably the first time she had seen him drink any form of alcohol.

"Oi, I work with the police and I'm just as stumped as they are." She said offensively.

Her feathers were ruffled and Sherlock could see this in the defensiveness in her eyes. He hadn't meant to offend her but it was true that in most cases the police were way out of their depth. "I apologize. That was not intended for you." When she nodded he smiled a bit. "Any connections between what was stolen from each place?"

Amber shook her head, sending several more strands of fiery curls to fall around her face. "Not in the slightest. This is the first case I've worked on with these batch of robberies and I haven't been allowed to see the other cases. I was called in because the photographer who had caught the cases had been called to a suicide down in Chelsea. I hadn't caught the call because, well it was supposed to be my day off and there were was someone to work it. The robbery call came in shortly there after and I was next on the call list."

"Why bring this up?"

"Everyone is chasing their tails and it's gone from a funny situation to something akin to a national security issue. I bring this up because I ran into Mycroft on my way out of the office. He wished to know how your were faring and much to my displeasure wished me to pass along the message that your help might be needed if another place happens to be robbed. He made sure to make it very clear the case was high paying and he offered me a bit of cash to give you this information."

"You took the money?" He didn't sound the least bit surprised having remembered their conversation a couple of weeks back about how if his brother ever offered money she would take it.

"It was a lovely sum, five thousand pounds just to relay the smallest amount of information to you. It wasn't until halfway to Baker Street when I realized he knew I was going to give you half. I wired the money into your account an hour before we left." She grinned wildly now. "I don't expect you to take the case but I thought it better to tell you than to have you hear it from John, Lestrade, or directly from your brother's mouth. Easier, I suppose, to just take his money and talk to you directly. I think he knows I like talking to you."

Sherlock sighed. "He knows this quite well. Always was his annoying habit, nosing into others business without so much as a thought."

"I'm sorry if I played right into his hands. I just thought having the extra money would help you and John. I know what I pay you to look into my case is nothing short of pitiful since you both seem hell bent on refusing my payment even though I have more than enough to pay you properly. Next best thing is taking your brother's money and giving you more than half."

"More than half?"

"Like I said Sherlock, I've got more than enough money. Half of which I don't know what to do with, it just sits in the bank and in stocks gathering more money. I don't like the notion of being rich. Always did rub me the wrong way," she said with a shudder as she remembered growing up as a teenager in a wealthy household getting whatever she pleased. While it had been a pleasant experience she had always felt guilty because she hadn't done anything to earn the money she was often randomly given or had spent on her.

Sherlock did not touch the subject, he did not ask and did not mention anything related to money. As touchy a subject as it was for both of them, he decided it was better left for another day when he could sit down and figure out the root of that particular aversion. "How are you enjoying dinner?" he prompted instead.

Amber gave a half smile. "It's lovely Sherlock. Thank you for bringing me here. I wouldn't have come other wise." It was half true, she might not have eaten there, at least not for a long while. "I know this isn't very date like, us talking about work and all, but I was wondering if we could touch base on my issue." She pushed her pretty much empty bowl away from her to stare openly and expectantly at the consulting detective in front of her. She knew they had a small time slot where they could talk before their actual dinner arrived.

"Do you recall knowing a woman by the name of Ester Allen?"

Before Amber could even begin to think her answer over the waiter came over with a tray holding their food. Sherlock had opted for some small dish which looked as if it had barely enough food to feed herself on it. She had gone for a chicken and pasta dish which she knew would fill her up. She thanked the waiter as he refilled their wine glasses and left be. She tasted her food and groaned at the heavenly taste.

She looked to Sherlock who had yet to touch her food. "What?" she asked when he just sort of watched her.

"Ester Allen, do you recognize that name from anything related to your parents or siblings?"

Amber thought for a moment, her brows furrowing as she mentally flicked through her Rolodex of names and faces. She came up empty. "Not that I can recall, no. I told you I don't remember many of my parents' friends or work associates. I was young, they preferred to keep me out of their work. My siblings were the same way, kept me out of their business since I was just the baby. My siblings would know more about my parents' work but you know what has become of them," she finished rather sadly. "I could look into who my parents' worked with and who they were friends with. I'm sure my aunt knows."

"Ester Allen was a woman your father attempted to put in prison."

"You say attempted as if she didn't go to prison. My father had an amazingly high guilty verdict rate over many of the prosecutors working along side him." She fidgeted with her cloth napkin not liking the conversation as much as she had thought she would have.

"So you do know a little of what your father did," Sherlock said with a sly smile.

"Yes, I know a little of what both my mum and dad did. My mum was a plastic surgeon and my dad a prosecutor as I've stated. I know because of this, and my father's status in the community, we were never want for money but neither rich. I know my mum traveled a lot, especially to Africa where she worked for charity. Dad did some pro-bono cases to help misguided children who only committed the crime to survive. What I don't know is the particulars of their work, such as who they worked with, the people my mum worked on, or the people my dad put away. So who is this Ester Allen and do you believe she is behind everything that is going on?"

"No, she's dead. Died of a heart attack the year before your parents were killed."

Amber's jaw dropped. After a few moments of staring at him in utter shock she felt her eye twitch as she realized what he had just done. He had wiggled more information out of her than she had been willing to give. He had done so in such a way that she didn't know what was going on until she actually thought about it. "You're an evil man Mr. Holmes," she sneered picking up her wine glass and draining the rest of it's contents. "I'm ready to go home now."

Her voice had taken on a chill, something Sherlock had noticed. "I did something to upset you?" he questioned.

"Smart man, able to figure out when he's upset a woman," she growled as she motioned for their bill. It was handed to Sherlock, much to her annoyance, but it allowed her to get up to leave. She grabbed her purse, pushed her chair back, got up, and stalked her way out of the restaurant.

The cold air of winter in London slapped at her face as she headed for the street trying to hail a taxi. Sadly no one stopped. She walked a couple of yards up the street and tried again, only to get the same response. She cursed loudly and stalked down the opposite side of the street to try getting a taxi again. Sometimes she hated London and the heavy traffic.

"Amber," she heard Sherlock behind her.

"I don't like being tricked Sherlock. I get that you are beyond smart but so am I. I'm not like John or Lestrade who don't realize until hours later that you've tricked them into giving them the information you want. I know what you did by asking about a woman who died who once had a connection to my parents. All you had to do was bloody ask and I would have answered your questions." She ranted for a second while still facing the street, however, she was not trying to get a cab any longer.

"You are a bit closed off, quiet when it comes to your parents. I knew you wouldn't answer." Sherlock stated, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Of course I would ha—" Amber started as she turned on her heels to face him. Her high heel caught a crack in the pavement and she tipped forward. She would have connected with the ground face first if Sherlock hadn't of reached out and caught her.

She ended up chest to chest with Sherlock, her head nestled against the roughness of his coat. She looked up and found her eyes meeting his. Everything in her mind stopped, the words on her lips wouldn't flow. Instead she let out a breath through her mouth which came out in a small gasp. Her heart beat faster, her cheeks flared bright red. "Um," she stammered, still with her hands on her chest. "Thanks. Heels and, uh, I don't mix very well."

"I've," Sherlock cleared his throat before continuing. "I've noticed you are quite clumsy." He righted her on her feet but kept his hands on her arms for a couple of moments while watching her face. He saw the blush, the contracting of her pupils, and heard the sound of her sharp little breaths. _Aroused_, he noted with a bit of satisfaction which was new to him. He found himself mildly, maybe a little more so, intrigued and aroused from the events which had just transpired.

She laughed, trying to relieve some of the tension and awkwardness she felt. "No one has ever accused me of being a cat. Graceful I might look, graceful I am not." She chuckled more to herself before taking a deep breath, trying to settle her fluttering stomach. "I apologize for walking out and reacting how I did. I just don't like that you would think me so stupid and reserved that you wouldn't just outright ask me the questions you wanted answers to." She fussed with a loose strand of hair waiting for him to answer. When she didn't she tucked that strand behind her head. "So, was this what the date was for, to get questions answered?"

"It was not, no."

She looked at him straight in the eyes again, seeing the sincerity written in their cool depths. "Then what was Sherlock because I'm utterly confused? I mean you take me out to this nice restaurant and we talk about work and then you mess with my brain by asking a senseless question. I don't know what to think Sherlock. I've never had a date quite as odd as this one." She smiled to soften the blow. She couldn't say the date was terrible, until the end that was, but she couldn't say it was perfect by any means. She liked a little oddness in her dates but this one topped what she thought was acceptably odd for a first date.

"Say something," she prompted when he still didn't speak. "Sherlock this is becoming a little annoying. I'm about ready to try to hail another cab." She even tapped the tip of her foot.

Sherlock just looked at her, watching her eyes go from bright and understanding to upset and annoyed in under a minute. She started to turn around when he grabbed her arm. "I don't know what you want me to say. I don't," he searched for the word. "I don't date as you know. I don't understand the social paradigm and for the most part I don't understand why anyone would want to go on a date."

Amber raised a brow, something she found she did a lot of when around Sherlock. "That makes me feel a lot better about all this Sherlock."

Sherlock sighed. He wasn't getting his point across and he didn't know how to put it in terms that she could understand. "I meant that I did not understand, until I met you." She smiled which made him think he had said the right thing. "The first and only real date I ever had the displeasure of going on was when I was in college. It ended terribly. All I could think about since I asked you to have dinner with me yesterday was that I did not want that happening with you."

She stood there shocked at his admission. "Then why act like a bastard?"

"I never meant to ask those questions. Yesterday when I spoke to you I had just discovered Ester Allen and I was feeling, hopeful I suppose you could say. It wasn't until last night that I found out she had died and had no part in your parents' deaths. I needed to know how much of your parents' lives you actually knew."

Standing there she smiled with a shake of her head. "You could have just asked. With this case, my situation, I'm more than willing to give you any information that you need. But like I told you Sherlock, I don't know much about my parents' work or their friends. I'll ring my aunt to see what she knows and maybe I can find you some real leads."

"Would you like tea?" he asked after giving her a quick nod. He watched her smile blossom and her eyes soften.

"I'd love some," she responded and attempted once more to hail a taxi. This time round one of the black cabs roaming up and down the street stopped letting them in. Sherlock allowed her in first then slipped in beside her rambling off an address of a cafe to the driver. They sat in silence, not uncomfortable in the least, while the cabby pulled away from the curb to merge with the steady evening traffic of SoHo.

Halfway to their destination she felt and heard her phone go off. Her ring tone blared through the taxi making her laugh, especially at the odd look for Sherlock. "It's a show Sherlock, a very popular science fiction show and I have the theme song as my ringer. Don't comment," she hissed out as she checked the ID and tapped answer. "Hello?" Pause. "Yes, I'm with him now." Pause. "I already worked today Lestrade. I think you can—"

Sherlock watched Amber's eye brows raise high. "You better be paying me triple overtime at the rate this is going. Give me the address and please tell me that my equipment is in the van, or at least some equipment." Another second passed. "Be there as soon as I can."

"Murder?"

Amber rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry but we've got to cut this date short." She got the cabby's attention and gave him the address of the crime scene. She leaned back in her seat and looked at Sherlock. "Lestrade wouldn't give me much detail on what happened. But there's a male DB in Kensington. Everyone else is out on a case and I'm needed. Apparently he called John to get a hold of you but he said you were out with me."

"Why would I be needed?"

"It must be an odd case if Lestrade and his merry band of men need you on a murder. I'm just a photographer so I'm always needed." She grinned at him. "Excited about the prospect of a new case?" She asked.

He thought it over for a moment. "I highly doubt that this case will be much more than open and close but yes, slightly excited." He answered her truthfully watching her roll her eyes at him. She did that a lot, he noted. She did it when she was annoyed but also when she was enjoying her eyes. It seemed to him that it was a form of teasing which was non-verbal.

Content to be silent, they both shared a look before they turned their heads to look out their own respective windows. It wasn't until he was a hundred percent positive that she would turn back that he looked at her once more. He smiled to himself once again and finally moved his gaze to the city beyond the window. As much as he detested dating, he was hoping that he could do this again with her. Granted he didn't want her storming out before they had a chance to actually finish their food but any time spent with her was never boring, that he truly liked about her.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Review Please!**

**A/N: I usually don't put these here, but I wanted to let everyone know that it will be hopefully next week I post the next chapter. I'm currently working on three active, on-going stories so I've got my work cut out for me. I try to work two to three chapters ahead in each but with my finals and school I got behind. I'm literally working chapter by chapter for each story and it's taking me longer. So if you don't see an update for a couple of weeks that's because I'm trying to get everything back to my regular way of doing things. So don't be mad at me. **

**Thank you guys for understanding and being wonderful readers! Hope you enjoyed the chapter though it wasn't...well eventful. More fluff and filler really lol. **


	18. Chapter 17

**_Okay this goes without saying. I've been so busy and I have just now realized that I actually neglected to post a certain chapter...I realized this because my chapter labeling has finally aligned itself the right way, which shouldn't have happened unless I forgot a chapter. Sooooo go back and read chapter 15 again...I am soooooo soooooo sorry! This should not have happened and I promise it will not happen again!_**

_Hello all. Here is another chapter. A bit longer than that last few I believe so I hope you enjoy it. Probably a little more fluff than normal, but oh well lol._

**Gwilwillith:** Thank you and here's another chapter. Hope you think it's awesome :)

**Empress of Verace:** Well Sherlock is always socially awkward. That's the fun part ;)

**bored411:** I'm sure at this point you know I've sent you another message. No need to thank me, I'm more than happy to help since your updating email thingy doesn't seem to want to work right. I wonder why it's picking on my story? I've got three on-going stories. I'm hoping to start another one but at this rate I don't think it would be wise. I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter, and trust me when I tell you that Amber and Sherlock will be doing that back and forth angry to happy thing a lot more, maybe. You'll have to read to find out!

**DeathDragon130:** Thank you so much!

_Disclaimer: I own nothing but Amber, Megan, and the plot!_

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**[017]**

Standing just off the corner of the block of the address Lestrade had given her, Amber felt mildly unprepared. She was wearing heels, dressed in a dress, wearing makeup and no glasses, plus she didn't have her kit nor did she have her forensic's badge. So while ambling up to the crime scene with Sherlock, she felt like a gawking murder groupie, one of those strange little people who stood outside the tape hoping for just one glance at the horrendous crime that had been committed. It was a very unfamiliar feeling which she was finding she didn't like one bit as it ran through her head, her mind chasing after it like a hunter after a rabbit in order to kill it.

Lucky for her, the officer standing in front of the crime scene tape knew her by first name and waved her in while giving Sherlock a once over, the kind of look a man gives a woman's current boyfriend as if to size up the competition. The officer, as she figured, refused to allow the consulting detective in after her. This, in turn, had the redhead laughing as she stood on the other side of the tape watching Sherlock scowl.

Without so much as an offer of help, Amber gave a finger wave to the annoyed Sherlock and to top that off she blew him a kiss that dripped with sass and taunting laughter. She trotted the best she could to the already open forensic's van sitting in front of the four story residential building. She swore she could almost hear Sherlock calling the officer an idiot and demanding to speak to Lestrade. Even when she was out of earshot she would have bet a months pay that he was still verbally attacking the poor officer who was only doing his job.

She was still laughing as she clamored her way into the van and began to riffle through everything to find the spare camera that was usually left there for emergencies. While conscious to the fact that she was in a dress she knew she also wore a pair of leggings. So she had no problem at all getting onto her hands and knees to attempt to find the camera in questions.

She had the camera in hand, already putting on the lens when she heard a whistle from behind her. She snapped up with the camera in her hand and turned to find Anderson staring at her tightly clothed backside not even trying to be subtle about it. She fought the animalistic growl growing in her throat.

"My arse is not my face Anderson. But I hope you got a long look because it's the only time you'll ever get to see it," she growled out as she slipped from the van so that she was standing in front of the lab rat with a glare on her face the could have stripped paint from a wall. "You're lucky I don't report you for harassment."

"Says the one wearing a dress and kneeling in a van."

"If my camera was left where it was suppose to be I wouldn't have to be kneeling in the van," hissed Amber while smoothing out the back of her dress. He was still staring at her, just like he had been Halloween night. It was beginning to make her a tad bit uncomfortable and she was ten seconds away from actually talking to Lestrade about Anderson's behavior. It was that or punching him in the face, she figured she'd get in less trouble if she reported him. "Not like I wanted to be called in again on my day off. I was on a date you know."

With a look of disbelief Anderson looked at her and asked, "A date? With who?"

"Whom, and with me," Sherlock's intoxicatingly deep baritone rumbled from somewhere off to the side. He was blocked from view by one of the van doors which would have annoyed her on any normal day. Hearing him made her smile warmly as she slammed the one door closed revealing the man in question. He still looked annoyed but this time it was more or less a face of annoyance because Anderson was standing there.

Anderson looked at Sherlock with more disbelief than he had upon learning that Amber had had a date. "I don't believe it," he mumbled. "Just what we need," her muttered and headed in the direction of the building still shaking his head.

Amber sighed, ran a hand over the top of her head but refrained from running her fingers through her current updo. "I have never in my life wanted to strangle a man more than I want to strangle Anderson. Do you think I'd get in much trouble if I did?" she asked without so much as an ounce of teasing in her voice.

As the began to walk towards the building where officers and techs alike were milling around, Sherlock said, "The world would be a better place without him lowering the collective IQ of everyone. Wouldn't hurt that he is slightly annoying either."

Amber snorted once. "Slightly annoying isn't possible when it comes to Anderson, Sherlock. You are slightly annoying. Anderson is annoying to the point where I have sometimes found myself wishing it was his crime scene I was walking into."

"You are a bit evil Amberlyn," Sherlock grinned in her direction which had her smiling brightly instead of scowling as she had been when Anderson had been leering at her ass in the van. Sherlock allowed her entry into the building before him, much in the same manner he had held the door for her at the restaurant. In some sick part of her brain she couldn't help but think that in a way this was kind of a date. Them two working together on a crime scene on which neither of them should have been. It made her want to laugh at how absurd the idea sounded even mentally.

"Something funny?" Sherlock asked as they mounted the stairs.

With a blush and embarrassed look at her 'date', she shook her head and regretted the action. Her hair, which was still short and pinned as best as it could be, seemed to fall from it's place. As they climbed the stairs she reached up and began to pull the pins from her curls. While she did so she began to talk, "I was just thinking that this could constitute as part of our date."

"How so?" Sherlock asked with his hands clasped behind his back while they ascended to the fourth floor where they had been directed at the door.

Amber tucked the pins in a pocket, pulling out a pair of rubber gloves which she had stashed there when in the van. She snapped one on and said, "We're not supposed to be here, you and I. I'm on my day off and you aren't even a detective." She held up her hand before he began to protest. "You know what I mean Sherlock. You aren't a real detective, as in you don't get paid to work with the Yard." He conceded with a nod.

"This very well could be a date," he agreed, while she finished pulling on her gloves.

She began to give a little laugh. "I would have never, in all my years, thought that a crime scene would be my first date with anyone, especially you." She snorted once as she tried to keep her laughter to a minimum. She was at a crime scene after all and laughing while someone lay dead in the other room was frowned upon. Yet she just couldn't help herself.

"People are staring," Sherlock pointed out giving a stare right back at those watching as they arrived at the fourth floor of the building. The buzz of activity came from a flat at the end of a very long and neglected hall.

Amber composed herself enough to glare at not only Sherlock but several of the officers and lab techs who happened to be giving her dirty looks. "I am more than aware of this and frankly I don't care. This is my day off and I'm in a good mood. They should be happy I'm not cursing and scowling or that I haven't thrown my camera at Anderson for leering at me," she said rather loudly when passing the man in question. He at least responded with a flushing of his cheeks since Amber was within shouting distance of Lestrade.

Sherlock gave a light chuckle. "You make him nervous."

"Good," was all she said as she entered the room where everyone seemed to be coming and going from. The entry way of the flat she found herself in was neglected, just like the rest of the building. The tile flooring just within the doorway was chipped and beginning to peel from the ground revealing concrete beneath. The carpet was spotty at best, and what was left was dotted with horrid stains that she hoped was red wine and not blood or something worse.

Lestrade caught her just as she was about to walk from the entry way, through the kitchen and living room, and into the back room where she figured the body was found. "Devons, about time you got here." While it was said with a serious tone the man was smiling. "You look nice. Those shoes aren't going to be doing you any favors tomorrow."

"Not my fault you called me in while I was on a date," she sneered with a little bit of a grin of her own on her face.

"You on a date? Then why were you with Sherlock." She decided not to speak as she let him work it out on his own. He was a relatively bright man after all. "No, you weren't," he began looking between the consulting detective and the flame haired woman in front of him. "Wow, well—I have no idea what to say."

Amber lead the way to the back room while saying, "Then don't say anything. We were having dinner, you called, and here we are. What the hell happened?" She asked when she got the door way and caught her first glimpse of the room. To a novice the scene would have made lose the contents of their stomach. To someone like Amber and Sherlock, it did little more than make them wonder who could have done such a thing.

It was covered in plastic sheeting, the kind someone would use if they were out hunting and trying to skin a deer or some other kind of big game without causing a mess. There was a male dead body laying in the middle in a rather large pool of blood, more than should have been in the human body. His neck was silt and it appeared as if whoever had done this had attempted to skin the man but had been interrupted.

"There is too much blood. Where's the other victim?" Sherlock asked walking around Amber and into the room. His action brought her out of her mind and she kicked into high gear, trying not to lose what little of her dinner was already in her stomach. She had seen some terrible things in her young life but this was just beyond what she thought her mind could handle. She thought she could but staring at the blood was making her queasy.

"Who could have done something like this?" she murmured more to herself while Lestrade began to answer Sherlock's question.

"We've only found this one body. We've cleared the empty flats in the building and we have officers interviewing everyone currently living here to see if they saw anyone coming or going from this floor. There are no security cameras nor doormen."

"The blood could belong to the killer. It's not uncommon for a killer to nick themselves. I mean I do it all the time shaving. I mean whoever did this used a knife, it's clear by the laceration on the man's throat as well as the fact that someone started to fillet him like a fish," Amber said a bit morbidly.

Both men looked at her, not because she had said something smart but because she had pretty much called the victim a fish. Sherlock probably didn't mind having the man called that but Lestrade seemed a little surprised.

Amber blushed lightly. "Sorry, my dad and brother did a lot of hunting and fishing. I went along once, got to fillet a fish. The wounds are similar to the blade of the knife my father used. Common enough to find in any household so it might be a little hard to track even after getting an impression of the lacerations."

Sherlock nodded, more than slightly impressed. He seemed to be looking around, a little at a loss as to what he was seeing. Besides the man laying in the blood in only a pair of boxer shorts, there was very little evidence thanks to the plastic sheeting covering the room. He couldn't get close to the body without stepping in the blood and while he wouldn't have minded, he didn't think Lestrade would be if he messed with the crime scene before Amber had a chance to take all her pictures.

It took her a total of fifteen minutes to get all the proper shots and then she gave a look to Lestrade that told Sherlock it would be okay for the body to be moved by Sherlock and then the medical examiner. She backed out of the room, breathing only though her nose. She would allow Sherlock and Lestrade to do their work.

She weaved her way through the people she worked with daily, giving a little wave here and there as well as a thank you to those who said she looked good. It wasn't everyday she went to work dressed up. Besides Halloween and the evening at the Gala, she rarely wore anything fancy. From time to time she wore low heels and some makeup but nothing like a dress.

The stairs were the killer with her heels. On the third floor she stopped off and gently pulled her shoes off. She was beginning to think that heels were going to be her downfall since something always went wrong when she was in them while working. The first time a young girl had been murdered, the second time she had almost lost her life, this time her date had been ruined by a dead body. _Show some respect, _her conscious yelled at her while she walked back down the stairs, her heels in one hand and the camera around her neck bouncing slightly.

Slipping past the two officers standing guard at the door she gave them a way and trotted barefoot, thankfully in socks, towards the forensic's van once more. She popped the memory card before taking the camera apart and putting it back in it's case. She sat in the back of the van, pulled off her gloves, and slipped her shoes back on. She took her phone out and wrote a quick message to Sherlock.

**Catching a taxi to lab. See you there? AD**

Amber hopped down to the ground, felt the sting from the jump in heels work it's way up her legs and headed back the way she had come with Sherlock nearly forty five minutes ago. She should have stuck around to see if they needed any more help but today was her day off after all. Plus she was sure that someone up there, one of the techs at least, had a camera on them to take more pictures of the flat and surrounding area if needed. It was her day off and she wanted it to be over with.

Walking at a rather slow pace, just encase Lestrade stuck his head out a window to call for her or send someone else looking for her, she headed for the yellow tape. It was held up for her by the same officer as before. He bid her goodnight, she did the same and walked down the block. She managed to hail a taxi, much to her luck, and got in.

"Scotland Yard please," she said buckling herself in.

"Will do ma'am."

She felt her phone buzz as she was thanking the driver.

**You left? SH**

She chuckled with a shake of her head.

**Crime scene was a little unsettling. Got all I needed. Had to flee. AD**

She stuffed her phone back in her pocket as the cabby pulled the cab up to the curb in front of the Scotland Yard building. She was a bit surprised that the drive hadn't taken longer. Doing the bit of math in her head she calculated that the crime scene was a little over four city blocks from the Yard. Not far really and a little disconcerting to know that something so heinous could be committed so close to where she worked. She shuddered, recalling the fact that things much worse had happened quite close to her in her such short lifetime.

Paying the cabby with a few notes she slipped from the taxi, bid him happy holidays, and jogged her way into the building just as she felt the fine mist of late fall rain begin to fall. She sighed, shouldering her way into the building realizing that she still didn't have her identification card. It would make things a little harder but she decided to forgo getting into an argument with an officer and just go through the proper channels.

It took Amber fifteen minutes to get through security and gain a temporary pass for the evening. It hadn't helped that woman working the front desk was new and refused to believe that she worked in the building. When she finally managed to get the woman to check for her name in the database her temper was already peeking.

Just as she was handed the pass she heard Lestrade's voice behind her, "Having troubles?"

She growled out, "I forgot my card at home and little miss new lass there wouldn't believe I worked here."

Lestrade gave her a once over. "I wouldn't either given you're dressed like a wealth twenty something out on the city."

Amber rose a brow. "I am a wealthy twenty something out on the city. Today's my day off. I don't need to be running around in a yoga top and jeans all the time now do I?" She harped as they both took the elevator to their proper floors. She bid him goodbye while he road another floor up. She headed for her lab and office.

She booted up the computer, signed in, placed the memory stick into the drive and waited for all the photographs to load up. She flicked through them when they were up, printing a few that would appear to be important to the case itself. She placed them in a file folder, saved them all, and shut down the computer. She ran them up to Lestrade and was finally free from work for the day. Sherlock hadn't shown up. She wondered what that could have meant.

0000000000000

The first thing she heard upon entering 221B was the sound of soft violin music playing. Live music, she noted to herself, something she didn't often hear in the flat. It put a smile on her face to hear such soft and lovely music after having to deal with what she had seen in the last few hours. She knew it was Sherlock playing because John didn't play and Mrs. Hudson was a bit clueless when it came to using instruments. She knew what sounded good but not how to play them.

At this hour she also knew that John and their landlady were safely tucked away in bed waiting for the new day to dawn bringing with it different projects and difficulties to overcome. For now however the night was hers and right now she didn't want to be alone.

In a matter of minutes she was down in her flat, feeding both the cat and rabbit, washing her face, following that by changing into flannel pants and a tank top before taking her contacts out to put on her glasses. Throwing on her rob and slipping her feet into a soft and warm pair of slippers she slid out of her flat and quietly walked to Sherlock's flat.

The door was already open so Amber didn't bother to knock. She had learned that when the door was open it was perfectly fine to announce oneself while entering. Except this time she didn't. She kept herself quiet while she took note that Sherlock was playing his violin while facing the window. He was in his blue robe, flannel pants, and socks from what she could see with his back towards her. His dark hair was a mess as if he had been trying to get some kind of sleep. _Only trying to sleep to please me, _she thought with a fond smile.

She carefully crept her way to the couch and took a seat, curling her knees to her chest after slipping off her slippers. She wrapped her arms around her legs and closed her eyes as she listened to soft and haunting melody playing around the room. As the scene painted itself on the back of her eyelids She found herself smiling wistfully, wishing in some part of her heart and mind that he was playing this for her to hear, that this was his own music made for her. While she knew this was probably just some concert piece he had picked up somewhere, she allowed herself just one minute to believe it was her's and her's alone.

The music stopped, her eyes popped open without much thought. She looked up at Sherlock finding him looking at her with a confused look, as if he didn't know what to do about the woman on his couch crying. _Crying? Why am I crying? _She asked to herself wiping away the stray tears.

"I'm so sorry. I guess it's just been a stressful day," she bubbled out trying to get herself under control. She didn't know what about Sherlock playing the violin would make her cry. She'd heard him play it time and time again and it had never affected her the way it was now. Maybe because now she knew she truly liked him, not just had a passing fancy because he was some hotshot consulting detective who could solve a crime just by seeing the body. She really liked him and she wanted him to like her back.

Sherlock just stood there, taking in the fact that she was crying. He watched as the tip of her pale nose turned a rosy pink, as her eyes became slightly red rimmed. He was at a loss as to what he should do. "Tea?" he asked trying to escape the room. He didn't know it was appropriate to leave her alone in such a state but he felt his own need to flee, just as she had felt the urge to flee the crime scene hours ago.

While she swiped at her eye with the edge of her robe she simple nodded watching out of watery eyes as he fled almost as fast as she had from the building earlier that evening. "Stupid," she mumbled to herself getting her emotions under control.

Amber was back to normal by the time Sherlock walked out with two cups of hot tea. They were in mugs much to her surprise. The whole time she had known him, which was short as it was, he had never served her from anything but fancy, or mildly fancy, cups. John had served her in the mugs but never Sherlock. This made her smile and she didn't start crying either, thankfully.

"Thank you Sherlock. I apologize for acting like a fool just now. I don't know why I was crying," she took a sip of her tea nearly burning her mouth. From what she could taste it was sweetened to her particular taste with a hint of honey and milk. "What is this? Jasmine and rose hips?"

"Mrs. Hudson bought it yesterday. I thought you would like it."

"It's lovely, a little different actually. I'm used to stronger teas," she said before blowing on it once to cool it down some. She knew that this wasn't the topic that he wanted to be talking about but she didn't want to bring up the case just yet. She wanted a few blood free minutes. "If you don't care for it, I'll take it off your hands." She added knowing already he didn't like it much. From what she could tell by the smell of his own tea it was a black tea, not white like the one she was drinking.

"If you want, you are free to have it. John isn't a fan either."

She chuckled. "Only black tea for you boys, how very manly."

Sherlock had the common sense not to actually comment on her statement, instead he kept himself quiet while they sat their, sipping their tea. He noticed that Amber looked everywhere but at him. She would nearly make eye contact, only to look over his head at the mirror above the fireplace. He, however, kept his eyes directed at her face, trying to catch any flicker that would give away what she was thinking or feeling. She had been easy to read upon their first meeting but now, now she was so hard to read. He knew this was because she had figured out his method and learned to cover herself better than anyone he had ever met. Better than his brother.

"Did you solve the case?" her voice broke the awkward silence after several minutes.

Setting his cup on the table in front of him, Sherlock leaned forward finally managing to lock eyes with Amber. Startled green stared back at him. Startled of what, he couldn't be sure. The crime scene? Being alone with him? Something else? He would figure this out, tonight if he had his way.

"No, sadly I did not. Unfortunately for everyone involved this case will not be easy to unravel. I could find no evidence of foot prints or finger prints. The flat was wiped clean of any and all evidence besides the body. The man was middle aged, recently divorced by the tan line on his finger, over weight, most likely a cabby. Besides that there was nothing else to learn."

To Amber's trained ears, or maybe just the finely tuned sense of emotion that woman had, Sherlock sounded irritated. She could understand why. A man such as him who was used to learning everything in one go at it could find himself annoyed when there was nothing really to learn. "I believe we might be looking at a professional."

"I would have to agree." It appeared to be as if he was begrudging in his answer but Amber didn't mind. She allowed him to be immature about this fact, knowing that anything she said would only make him more upset.

So instead she simply took another sip of her tea. "Tonight was fun besides the crime that is."

"You had fun?" He sounded so surprised it made her giggle a tiny bit.

Finishing off her teas she sat her mug on the ever growing stack of books which had started as only two a couple of days ago. She curled herself back up and snuggled into the couch. "Yes I did. You were a bit of a git but given the circumstances of my particular issue it is understandable that you would try to be a bit sneaky in getting answers from me. I would have done the same had I been in your shoes. Just please, don't let it happen again." She tugged at a string on the bottom hem of her pants.

"It will not, I promise."

She took promises with a grain of salt, but that was something she would delve into another day when she didn't feel so skittish. A yawn crept up on her. She covered her mouth with an embarrassed blush. "Sorry, I believe the day has finally caught up with me."

"Then by all means head downstairs and go to bed. Do not let me keep you up." He even gave a wave towards the front door.

As much as she wanted to stay she had to agree that she had to head downstairs. "Promise me that we'll go out again, just the two of us," she said while uncurling herself from her spot on the couch. She had began to claim that corner a little over a week ago after learning that she spent nearly as much time in his flat as she did her own.

"We will, with a little less murder and conversation of work."

"My life is your case Sherlock, there is no way around it."

"Perhaps you could talk about something other than your life, explain more about yourself." This came as a surprise to Sherlock as much as it did to Amber. He didn't care about what made another person. He never cared for their dislikes, habits, and hobbies. They played no part in what he needed to glean from another being. He wanted their life story not what made the person uniquely different from someone else.

Amber smiled, a truly innocent and bright smile that held the joy she felt upon hearing him say that. In fact she was so overjoyed she rushed forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek, not wanting to startle him too much. "I would love that Sherlock. Good night," she said jogging out of the flat before he decided to ask what the was all about.

Once downstairs she locked her door, shut off all the lights, and headed for bed. Her dreams were full of darkness. Murder reigned supreme until she heard the hauntingly sweet melody that Sherlock had been playing. While it might have moved her dreams from the realm of murder it did not help with tone of her dreams. She would wake up in the morning covered in sweat, a sense of foreboding hanging over her head.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Please Review!**

**A/N: I have a poll on my profile. Please I need my reader's opinion badly. It's not to hard, just read the questions and pick a choice. I'll be forever in your debt! **


	19. Chapter 18

_Hello there once more. I would have posted this chapter after the new year but I figured I'd post it now instead of wait. Sadly that means it'll be a couple weeks until the next update so I can get ahead once more. Anyways on with the show..._**  
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UrbanLights: Thank you so much and I'm really glad you love this story! I'm glad you think I've kept the character pretty much in character. I've been worried about that lol. Hm, Sherlock interacting with a cat...that might just be doable since Nix is a part of Amber's life. You'll have to read and see :) Hope you enjoy the chapter!

bored411: Thanks. I might actually be putting in more of his violin playing, I love the violin so yeah, be on the look out for that.

Gwilwillith: Thank you :)

Empress of Verace: Thank you for the vote. So far it seems to be a tie between the two Sherlock story ideas lol. Oh yes they do have some funny dates, and will have some more in the future. They aren't exactly a conventional couple now are they?

_Disclaimer: As you all are aware I do not own Sherlock, the BBC does. So yeah...just thought I'd let you all know that (AGAIN) _

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**[018]**

Amber was curled in a ball on the couch under a blanket which she had brought with her that morning from her flat. She had a winter cold, had to take a day off of work, and had refused to be alone in her flat. Right now she was sleeping peacefully, a sleep that was induced by a batch of cold medication which John had suggested she take so that she wasn't suffering overly much.

That had been two hours ago. John had left for work and Megan had left two days ago to visit family since she would be working over the holidays. This left Sherlock alone with Amber in his flat. With her sleeping though it was more or less Sherlock himself in the flat.

And he was bored. More bored than he had been in quite some time.

It had been a week since he and Amber had been on their date and no interesting cases had come his way. There had been minor ones of course, civil disputes, missing people who turned up to be one county over, and the occasional break-in that people refused to report to the police but seemed to still want a private investigator to look into. None of these cases had proven to take much of Sherlock's time, the longest one having taken two days due to travel. Addie had helped with a few of those cases and from her bored looks on her days off ,Sherlock rightfully assumed that she was as bored as he was.

Of course in this week time frame, Sherlock had the time to investigate the case of the skinned man. Sadly, beyond the things he had learned in the beginning, there was nothing new to report on that front. The police were still chasing their tails and for once in a long while Sherlock found himself doing the same. He hadn't even made headway in Amber's stalker case. Nothing had developed, no more packages, and her aunt couldn't make it down until after the New Year. Amber's little tip about the museum robberies hadn't even panned out into anything right yet.

So now he sat in his flat with a sick woman praying for a murder or at least a good robbery. He sat in his chair, hands steepled in front of his face watching the sleeping redhead. He had yet to decipher the feelings he felt when he was in her presence but he had come to the realization that they weren't at all unpleasant. In fact he found that whenever she was around he found himself happier, calmer even. As of right now, when he would usually be causing some damage to the flat or fixing for a fag, he found himself bored, yes, but not on the verge of breakdown. He felt simply bored, just like a normal person should he supposed.

He wasn't sure where they went from that one date. He wanted to repeat the process, maybe minus the murder part but seeing as she hadn't objected to viewing that part of their evening as anything but an extension of their date it was safe to believe that she wouldn't mind it happening again either. What he didn't know, however, was how to go about taking her on another date. He didn't like the cinema and he wasn't a big fan of the theater, even if she had been rambling on about how she enjoyed plays and musicals. The opera was out of the question, Amber had made it quite clear upon his mention of that particular cultural experience that she hated it. He could take her to a music presentation, something classical like the orchestra. She had shown great interest in his violin playing and she knew how to play the piano after all. If it came down to it he could simply take her out to dinner again. Maybe a nice walk in the park and people watch. She had shown an mild interest in watching people, particularly those she didn't know.

For right now a date was out of the question, her being down with a cold after all. He wondered what he could do with himself right now. He refused to wake Amber up, as much as he wanted to talk at her about her stalker, and he knew that any loud noise at this point would wake her up. He went for the next best thing, he headed for John's laptop, powered it up, and went to work attempting once more to figure out that what happened to the skinned man.

Just as he was halfway through the pictures he had managed to get his hands on thanks to Amber, the woman in question began to cough herself awake on the couch. "Bloody cold," she hacked out hoarsely and reached for the bottle of ice water on the ground near the couch. She knocked it over sending it rolling over in the direction of the fire place. "Damn it!"

Sherlock was on his feet in a flash grabbing up the bottle and handing it to Amber. "Thanks Sherlock. Sorry for invading your place like this. I just don't want to be alone downstairs. Never have liked being by myself when I'm sick."

"You are more than welcome to stay here as long as you need to," Sherlock said in complete honesty. He had never liked people in his flat, besides Mrs. Hudson and John that was, he tolerated Megan for the most part but when it came to Amber he enjoyed having her around, even if he didn't always show it.

Amber smiled then sniffled. "That means a lot coming from you. I know you don't like people in the flat besides the regulars." She said as if she were reading his mind. "If you hear from John before I do please tell him he's a rat bastard and thanks for giving me a couple of good hours of sleep."

"I will be sure to do that," Sherlock tried to keep the smirk to himself as he watched her drink down the rest of her water. She struggled to her feet, wrapped the blanket around herself, and shuffled off the kitchen where he assumed she was filling up the bottle.

When she didn't come back he went in search of her. He found her standing in front of the fridge and there was a pot of water boiling on the stove top. "There are thumbs in the fridge. Why are there thumbs?"

She asked turning around with a bag of at least a dozen and a half thumbs, all of various sizes, shapes, and colors. "And why are they in here?"

Sherlock looked at that bag as if he wasn't sure where they had come from. He mentally flipped through the experiments he had been doing in the past week. "I was trying to find out the temperature at which fluids, blood in particular, crystallizes. I have been turning the dial down five degrees every other day."

"Still, they don't belong in a fridge. It's a health hazard Sherlock." She tossed them back inside before leaning to check the dial. "I didn't even know a fridge could get that bloody low." With that she checked the dial closer. "Really, you rigged it so that you could lower the temperature farther than it was meant to? Why not just buy one of those small deep freezers? My dad used to have one for hunting trips and the meat he brought home."

"There is not enough room in the flat for a freezer like that. The fridge seems to do just as well." Sherlock elaborated.

"Is there any food? Edible food that is?" She shut the door to the fridge just as the pot on the stove whistled. "Tea will have to do if there isn't. I'll order some takeaway." She coughed once. "Soup would probably be the only thing I can choke down at this point."

Amber began to set about making the tea, using the jasmine and rose hips one that she had taken off his hands a couple of days ago. She raided the cabinet for sugar and honey, pouring a generous amount of the dark viscous liquid into a mug, putting two of the bags in the cup and poured the now less than boiling water in the cup. She leaned over the cup and took a deep breath of the sweet smelling tea.

She let it seep, turning around to face Sherlock. "Would you like some tea? I can make you a different blend if you want me to. I know you have some Earl Gray around here somewhere. John was just complaining that he had to go buy some because you two ran out."

Sherlock stopped her with a hand on her shoulder before she could find the tea in question and make him a cup. He directed her to one of the kitchen chairs and pushed her down until she was sitting. He put her cup in front of her and set to work making his own tea. "How is your fever?"

"It was pretty high before John gave me the meds but I'm pretty sure I'm sitting just above my normal body temperature." She gave a shrug and continued on before he could ask any more questions about her current state. "My throat is raw, my head hurts, my ears are stuffed, and I can't breathe through my nose at the moment. I'm hoping the heat from this tea will help to open me up a bit."

"Are your colds always this severe?"

"I rarely get sick Sherlock. Once a year usually around this time. It usually sticks around for five days, I'm in my third which is the worst." She stirred a spoon though the tea before taking a sip.

Before Sherlock could say anything there came a meow from the living room. Much to both their surprise into the kitchen walked Nix, Amber's pretty little feline friend. "Did you leave your door open this morning?" He asked as the cat made her way to Sherlock. Nix began to weave in and out of his legs as she usually did when he encountered the cat. Much to his surprise he found himself enjoying the feline. She wasn't much of a hassle, didn't get in the way much, and wasn't as time consuming as he had originally thought. Plus the cat made Amber smile. He liked when she smiled.

"No," Amber said, surprise and a little bit of fear mounting in her voice. "I never leave it open. In fact I left it locked this morning since I knew I'd probably be taking a nap up here. I don't have a cat flap either." She scooped up the cat when she came near. "Sherlock, no one but Mrs. Hudson and I have a key. I doubt she'd leave the door wide open in the middle of the day like this without telling me first."

Amber was up off the chair and out of the flat with the cat gray cat in her arms in under ten seconds. Sherlock was right behind her. He caught up to her, being several inches taller than her and his lungs were in better condition than hers at the moment. He was careful as he shoved her back away from the door and eased his way down the set of the stairs leading to the open door of her flat. He checked the lock finding no sign of a break-in. Unless the person was exceedingly skilled in lock picking there was no way someone had physically forced their way into the flat.

He walked in listening for any sign of someone still in the flat. Amber was right behind him, still clutching the cat as if she were to scared to let the feline go. "Is it safe?"

Sherlock didn't answer her at first, checking her bathroom, kitchen, and bedroom. He already knew who was in the flat. It was clear as day to him and he knew that Amber would know as well. It was her stalker. He had left something behind, a brown box sitting on kitchen table, the same kind of boxes that Amber had received in the last couple months.

"You can come in Amber, no one is here anymore."

"It was my stalker wasn't it?" she asked walking into the kitchen, releasing the cat to go free. She hissed when she saw the box. The hiss turned into a cough and she pulled out a chair sitting down to catch her breath. "Why won't this sick man leave me alone? What could I have possibly done?"

"Amber this has nothing to do with you directly. This has to deal with whatever happened to your parents and your siblings," Sherlock soothed with a hand on her sound. She placed hand over his giving it a slight squeeze to show him that she was fine and his gesture was noticed. His hand slipped away when hers did.

"That has everything to do with me Sherlock. Everything!" She felt the coughing coming back and trying to stifle it but instead she ended up dry heaving over the sink from the violent fit. "What do I do? I don't have anywhere I can go that's safe and it would appear this man can get into my flat whenever he pleases."

"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock shouted and then ran to the front door, swinging it open and shouting again. It took a couple of moment for the older woman to get down to the flat but she did.

"What is it Sherlock? Amber could still be—oh hi dear, how are you feeling? Any better?"

"Not in the slightest," she mumbled running her hands under the cold water and reaching for a rag to wipe at her mouth though she hadn't actually thrown up. "Did anyone come by my flat today? Anyone claiming to be some kind of repairman or something?" She asked while wetting the rag down to place at the back of her neck fighting off the fever which was coming back with a vengeance.

Mrs. Hudson looked around for a moment, trying to think back. "Yes, a man came to fix your cable about an hour ago. I didn't want to wake you and Sherlock was somewhere else in the flat. I thought being the landlady and that the man knew your first and last name I assumed that he was here to do as he said. Did I do something wrong?"

"No not at all Mrs. Hudson," Amber said wishing that she could give the older lady a hug without having to worry about getting her sick. "Just next time, please let me know because I didn't need my cable fixed."

"Then who did I let into the flat?" Her expression showed her horror and worry.

Sherlock finally spoke up, "Her stalker Mrs. Hudson."

"Oh dear!" Mrs. Hudson slapped her hands over her mouth, her eyes welling up with tears as she tried to find some words to apologize for what she had inadvertently done. "I'm so sorry Amber, I didn't know. Should I call the police?"

"Yes, do that please. Ask for Lestrade. I know he works homicide but I know him," she muttered lightly and took a seat once more at the kitchen table eying the box with fear and disgust in her eyes. "Why would he so blatantly walk into my flat in the middle of broad daylight?"

"He has broken in here before. His old method of entrance was sealed and he had to find a new way in. I would believe he thought that coming in through the front door would be brazen. He wanted to get a glimpse of you. He would have said he was a delivery man if it had been you at the door. When Mrs. Hudson answered the front door he had to change his direction, he had to say something to get into your flat. He came up with the most logical thing he could think of, a man coming to fix the cable. He had not planned on you actually being sick and he managed to slip in, leave the package and left. He left the door open knowing that you would come back and see it. He knew what he was doing." Sherlock rambled. By this point he had lost Amber to her own world and he began to worry about what this all meant for her and him for that matter.

Amber sighed. "Sherlock, what do I do? I can't stay here by myself. Megan won't be back until next weekend and my relatives live several hours away. I can't just up and leave work for an indefinite amount of time."

"You will stay in my flat until Megan returns. You can have my room. I will sleep on the couch." Sherlock offered.

Amber just looked at him for a moment. "Sherlock I can't ask you to do that. It is way to much to ask of you. God, what will John think? Me staying in your bedroom. He'll get a huge laugh out of that!" She giggled lightly.

"Why would he laugh at you needing a safe place to stay?"

"We're dating, or rather we went on a date. I don't even know any more what we are to one another. Friends, boyfriend girlfriend, people who spend time together?" She laid her head on the table. "I'm pretty sure that John will think we're sharing the bed after he leaves to go to sleep." Sherlock rose his brow in her direction. "Oh don't look at me that way. You're just as confused as to what we are as I am. What are we Sherlock?"

"What do you want to be?"

"I don't know," she sighed out just as there was a knock on her front door. "Lets just get through this and we'll go from there. Come in," she shouted the best she could to Lestrade, who she knew was at the door.

In walked a small group of cops, Lestrade leading the pack followed by Donovan and a couple others she didn't know. "Hello all, don't get to close to me I've got a cold and it wouldn't do to get you lot sick."

Lestrade rolled his eyes. "We'll take the chance Devons," he attempted to make it sound serious but she saw right through it, seeing his concern. "What happened?"

She pointed at Sherlock and said, "Let Sherlock talk."

Sherlock dove into telling the same scenario of events to the police as he had told Amber fifteen minutes ago. He allowed Lestrade to open the box while Amber stared blankly into space as if she was trying her hardest not to scream and throw something. He had to applaud her for her ability to keep herself under control when it appeared her life was spiraling head first into the ground.

The team of officers and a couple of crime scene technicians roamed freely around her flat collecting prints, taking hers and Sherlock's to rule them out. Megan was on file since she was a nurse and John was a military man. She tried not to snap and snarl at the people trying to help her. She was sick and when she was sick she wasn't a friendly person. She liked those she knew but when it was someone she didn't know poking around her flat she felt the urge to scream just a bit.

Within an hour Sherlock was locking Amber's door while she shuffled up the stairs behind the now departing police officers. She was still tucked in her blanket, her feet shoved into a pair of slippers now, and her hair was still messy. He doubted she even knew what she looked like.

Lestrade caught her before she could mount the first stair up to Sherlock's flat. "Are you sure you don't want to see what was in the box?"

"I'll come by once I'm not feeling like my head will explode. Right now I just want that package out of my flat and out of my mind." She shuddered as she watched one of the techs carrying the box out of the building. She heard Mrs. Hudson still talking to an officer at her front door.

Lestrade gave a nod and asked, "Will you be back to work tomorrow?"

Amber shook her head. "I'd like another day. Lord knows I've racked up enough sick days, plus you owe me a day since you interrupted my date last week." She grinned, a little more of herself slipping though the cold.

"Take as much time as you need. Don't want you spreading your disease around the Yard."

Amber snarled playfully as she shoved him out the door. The other officers followed behind him, including the one who had been talking to Mrs. Hudson. She gave them all a wave goodbye finally shutting the door. She leaned against it with a sigh and looked to Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson, who had joined them.

Running a hand through her messy hair Amber said, "Well this is a lovely start to the holidays."

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Review Please!**

**A/N: Again, hello everyone. I just wanted to remind you that I have a poll up on my profile. Please take a look and vote. Also, thanks to those who have put me on their alert list and favorites for this story. You guys make my day. Oh and my reviewers. I really love getting reviews. They help me figure out if something is wrong with the story and what you guys like. So litereally when I put suggestions down here at the bottom, don't feel like you can't suggest anything. I love help from other's some times. **

**Anyways...VOTE PLEASE and maybe review!**


	20. Chapter 19

_Hello once more. It would appear I might, MIGHT, be settling in a schedule for updating regularly. I've started classes for the semester so just hang in there with me while I adjust once more. I promise I'll update as often as I can, hopefully once a week on Friday or Saturday. _

_Anyways I wanted to thank those of you who added this story to their alert list and a HUG to those who reviewed! You guys have no idea how much it means to me. I know I usually leave a little note to those who reviewed but I'm in a bit of a rush right now. I believe I'm going to start replying to reviews in a message type form for now on as well. _

_Oh and please let me know if this is OOC at all, for any of the show characters as well as my OCs. _

_Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, the BBC does. I own Amber and Megan and the plot. That is all!_

* * *

**[019]**

Amber stared at the Scotland Yard building standing tall against the ominous gray sky. The day was indeed cold and overcast, hinting at rain or sleet later in the day. She was clad in her peacoat, her habitual purple scarf wrapped tightly around her sore throat. On her head was even a knit cap in a futile attempt to keep her fevered body from becoming overly chilled.

It was silly of her, while ill, to be outside in the early winter weather. Technicality it was still considered fall but seeing as it was sixth of December she figured it was more winter than it was fall at this point. She simply snuggled deeper into her coat, stuffed her hands into the deep pockets and gave a sigh of reluctance as she pushed her way froward through the stream of people in front of the building.

Pulling the doors open she remembered what she truly loved about the building itself. Walking inside to the lobby blocked out the noise of the street just a couple of yards away. There was a softness in the lighting, not like some of the buildings of London where the lights were harsh. There was a flurry of movement, which belonged to the employees and officials as well as the numerous guests, witnesses, and suspects. Yet the hum of activity didn't seem to bother her, not today. The most she was worried about was the fact that she was still coming off a nasty cold and was at risk of giving it to someone, even if John had told her the contagious stage was long over.

Going through security was easy, she was greeted by the woman at the desk and ushered through by just showing her identification card. She gave a simply thanks before going to the lift. She felt a little guilty that for the majority of the past week she had neglected her workout routine and barely walked up more than a flight of stairs to get from her flat to Sherlock's.

As she pressed the up button by the lift doors, she noted that it was on the top floor. She cringed and backing up a little looking to the stairs which, at this time of the day, were pretty much empty save for the few health conscious people like herself who had decided it wasn't the right time to be lazy. She contemplated taking the stairs but when she coughed she realized that her lungs were not up to the task of taking her up several flights.

Waiting with about as much patience as a four year old wanting ice cream, Amber tapped her Converse clad foot on the tile flooring as she watched the floor numbers ticking down, occasionally stopping, and finally coming to a halt on ground floor. "Finally," she muttered as she shouldered, rather rudely, through the group of officers vacating the lift.

There were a few obscenities thrown her way, to which she simply muttered a vulgar and somewhat threatening response. She pressed the button with enough force that her finger hurt afterward. She claimed the far left corner of the lift and once again found herself waiting. The lift car stopped at every floor on its way up, each time admitting new bodies as one got off. Soon Amber found herself squished in the corner.

On her floor she growled as she once more shouldered her way out of the group, refusing to follow in the example of a male officer who nearly ran over a poor woman who wasn't much older than Amber herself. She apologized to the young woman, wished her a good day and left the lift giving a dirty glare to the officer who merely looked at her with confusion. "Manners go a long way in life," she called not bothering to actually stop to hear his retort, if there had been any.

She didn't bother to give a hello to Anderson or Donovan as she passed them on the way to Lestrade's office. She didn't even give the DI a greeting as she flopped herself down in one of the hard backed chairs. "What was in the box?" she asked as a way of saying hello. She wasn't exactly feeling at her best and if she had it her way she would get this over and done with so she could go back home so she could get some more rest.

"Good morning to you too Amber. How are you today?"

"Lovely, thank you for asking," she responded sarcastically. "And you?"

"Good, I'm good." He crossed his arms in front of his chest while leaning back in his chair. The box was sitting on the edge of his desk, a reminder of exactly why she was there. She would much rather burn the contents and be done with it. Out of mind out of sight, or so she believed.

Amber crossed her arms and said, "Lestrade, I'm sick. I want to get home so that I can rest before I come back to work tomorrow. Please just open the bloody box, show me what's in it, ask me your questions, and let me go. This is painfully annoying as it is."

He simply sighed, reached for the box sliding it over in front of him and Amber. "Go ahead. You're not going to like what you find."

This had Amber taking a large gulp of air and grabbed the pair of gloves beside the box on the desk. She snapped them on. Steeling herself against whatever she was about to see, she reached for the lid of the box. While doing so she pulled it closer to her. When it reached the edge of the desk she then pulled her chair a little more forward. She took a deep breath and finally removed the lid.

At first glance it would appear as if it was a simple box containing tissue paper. On closer inspection she found that there was a tiny gift box with a photo sized envelope which she knew consisted of several pictures, most likely taken in the recent days. First she wanted to get a look at whatever was in the small little gift box, which had already been unwrapped and looked through.

More carefully than ever before, she peeled off the lid seeing a top of what appeared to be one of those plastic bags in which loose gems were held. She could only see the top line of it through the shredded cotton around it. Curious now beyond belief she tilted her head to the side and took hold of the thick plastic. She squeaked and dropped the little bag upon catching a glimpse of it. Inside was a lock of blond red hair tied neatly with a thin piece of ribbon.

It took a matter of seconds for her to realize the message before she ripped into the envelop a little less carefully than she should have. She knew, though, that this was not the original casing holding the pictures, merely a stand in for the show that Lestrade was putting on for her. She let at least twenty odd pictures fall onto the desk in front of her. Shoving the box out of the way she spread them out seeing numerous pictures, these taken with photo stamps. They were taken within the last week.

She felt her eyes fill with tears as she saw the image of her older sister Brianna gagged and bound in a room covered in white. No hint of window, no cracks in the walls, no features which could help the Yard find Brianna. She felt the tears fall down seeing the pure look of pain and horror written all over her sister's face. The girl's reddish blond hair was messy, shorter than Amber could ever remember it being. There were bruises on her face and every visible inch of skin.

A part of Amber's heart broke as she sifted through the rest of the pictures. They were all the same, some with earlier stamped dates going back three years when the girl had been taken, but most of them were dated from within the last five days, one as recent as yesterday morning before the package had been delivered.

"I don't understand Greg," she whispered after a couple of moments of silence. "Brianna was presumed dead after Kelly's body was found in the Thames."

"You shouldn't presume anything, haven't you learned anything in this job?" Lestrade said eyeing her carefully, trying not to upset her any further than she already was. "We've got some of our best people looking into the pictures. They've been copied already, these are going to go into storage. The hair sample has been sent to the lab for testing. We've found a partial finger print on the plastic of the bag. It will match the one found on the previous package but since we don't have a match to that one we've still hit a dead end."

Amber tried to compose herself as she shuffled the photos up and shoved them gently into the envelope. "Try the ribbon on the lock of hair. He's getting more sloppy, he might have left some kind of DNA when tying off the lock. If he left a print on the bag it is logical to believe that he was messy enough to forget to wear gloves."

While she might have been calm on the outside, she was barely resisting the urge to run screaming from the office. It was taking all of her strength not to do so as she stared carefully back at the older detective who was looking at her with pity in his eyes. She tried not to make some kind of remark, something she knew she would regret later. She had just come to terms with the fact that she might truly need some professional help, in the form of Dr. Latimer upstairs, she didn't want Lestrade backing her up and even ordering it.

"Good thinking, now go home. You can't work this case."

"It doesn't belong to homicide Lestrade. It belongs to missing persons," she allowed herself to retort.

He nodded. "Be that as it may, it concerns you and it's been a slow week. Your other sister was indeed murdered in the city and this is most certainly connected to her case, therefore it does belong to homicide in some manner of speaking."

Amber simply sighed, rubbed at her aching forehead and glared at Lestrade. "I'm going home."

"I'll call you if we find anything Amber. She's still alive, we will get her back."

She gave him a sad smile and said, "I hope. She's the last piece of my immediate family I have left. I'd move the world to get her back." She didn't say anything else, didn't hear a response, just left the office.

Knowing now why no one in the department, and the whole building for that matter, dared to actually make direct eye contact with her, Amber headed for the stairwell. Though she was sick she was more than willing to suffer some kind of pain if it helped her avoid the thoughts rolling through her mind.

As she hit the second floor she felt her mobile buzz in her pocket, the beeping echoing through the hall.

**Are you alright? -John**

She sighed, wondering if Lestrade had called Sherlock to inform him on this more than interesting development.

**I'm perfectly fine? Why? -AD**

Tucking the mobile back in her pocket she made quick work out of the final two flights of stairs, thankful for John's message. If she hadn't of stopped for those two minutes she would have been completely winded once she had gotten to the street.

She had just hit the pavement when she felt the familiar buzz.

**Where are you? -SH**

"Just what I need. Two men nagging me." She didn't even get a chance to hit respond when the phone buzzed twice more. She checked both messages.

**CALL ME NOW!- Megs**

**Greg called Sherlock. Said your sister is alive. -John.**

Doing the only thing she knew she could do at this moment, she turned off her phone. She put in back in her pocket, bundled her coat closer to her body, and began walking the opposite way of Baker Street. She didn't want to go home, she didn't want to see her friends, and she certainly didn't want to see Sherlock. She just wanted to be alone.

It was hard to realize that her sister was alive, a person she had thought to be dead for years now. She had resigned herself to the fact that she was the last of her family, her nuclear family that was. Sure she had her aunt and uncle and cousins and such, yet they weren't her direct blood. They weren't from the same fabric, the same loom. They were family yes, but they weren't the ones she wanted. She loved them yes, but not how she had loved her sisters, her brother, and her parents.

She missed them so much sometimes it hurt to even breath. There had been nights, long after her parents had been murdered and her brother taken so horribly from her, that she found herself laying in bed, crying quietly into her pillow. She still cried some nights when she was alone, when Megan wasn't around and long after Mrs. Hudson and John had gone to sleep. Sometimes it wasn't when she was sleeping. When she looked in the mirror she saw her own reflection but she also saw her mother and her sisters.

It was hard, having suffered what she had but she was strong, always had been. She didn't profess to be perfect, didn't expect people to think that of her, but she didn't want to show the pain. She didn't want to suffer alone either. She hadn't quite found that balance between being strong and being weak. Right now she just wanted to be weak, she didn't want to put on that mask, didn't want to be strong. She wanted a comforting pair of arms, someone who wouldn't tell her everything was alright. She just wanted someone who would let her let go o everything, to just fall apart without trying to make it all better.

Megan and John could offer comfort but she knew that they would try to make her feel alright, Mrs. Hudson would probably be just as distraught as she was, and Sherlock would give it to her straight. He wouldn't hold her, wouldn't sooth her with false words. She liked that about him, and right now it was what she wanted except she'd want to be held. He wouldn't hold her, but at least it would better than suffering on her own.

0000000000000

It had been over five hours since anyone had heard from Amber. Megan was on the phone with anyone who knew the redhead, Mrs. Hudson was harping at Lestrade on the phone, and John was running interference while Sherlock simply sat in his chair willing his phone to make some kind of noise. He wasn't usually someone who worried, and while he wasn't showing it on the outside, at the moment it was running rampant in his mind. He was worried about Amber, a new feeling to be sure as were all his feelings concerning Amber. This emotion, he did not like one bit.

While he heard John shout something at Megan, Sherlock felt the silent buzz of his phone in his jacket pocket. He tried not to give a small smirk as he rose from his chair and began to gather his scarf and coat.

"Where are you going?" John asked stopping halfway out the doorway as he heard Mrs. Hudson downstairs shouting just a bit at Lestrade, or whoever she was on the phone with now.

"Out. I'll be back soon."

"Amber's missing and you're going out?" John's voice was calm to the point that it was almost icy towards that taller man.

Sherlock simply continued to put on his coat and scarf. "You are talking about Amber, she'll return home when she's ready."

"She hasn't so much as called or texted anyone since she left the Yard. She's either missing or—"

"Or she doesn't wish to be disturbed. She received some very troubling information and I can imagine that she would like some time to herself. If she doesn't return by tomorrow morning then we should involve the authorities, though I doubt they'll do more than run around chasing their tails," he scoffed.

John shook his head. "Fine leave but if you hear from Amber call one of us."

Sherlock didn't so much as nod as he walked from the flat. Once he was outside and walking down the street he pulled his phone from his pocket.

**Sitting in Greenwich Park. -AD**

From Baker Street to the park was nearly an hour trip by the tube, under forty if he took a taxi. Weighing the possibilities, and the probability of John or Megan watching out the window, Sherlock decided it was wiser to take the extra time and ride the tube. It would be cheaper in the long run after all.

**Shall I join you? -SH**

As he waited for an answer he headed in the direction of the station, having the intention of joining her whether she wanted him to or not. While he didn't fully understand her emotions concerning the news she had been dealt earlier that day, he was more than aware that she shouldn't be alone. John, Megan, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson had made that very clear over the last five hours.

He received a message just as he paid for his trip. Pulling out his phone he just barely made it to the car as it pulled out of the station.

**Yes, near the observatory on the hill. -AD**

Sherlock didn't bother to message her back, knowing that it was rather pointless to do so. There was nothing else to talk about so he left her be and just stood there in silence.

Nearly an hour and one connection later, he was walking along the pavement winding through the Greenwich Park. He made his way in the direction of where Amber had said she would be, factoring in the the hour since she had contacted him in the possibility that she had moved.

He found her where she said she would be, sitting with her knees curled to her chest watching the flurry of people walking about. He sat himself beside her on the ground, trying not to show his discomfort in sitting on the grass.

"Thanks," he head her broken voice whisper after five minutes of sitting there in silence.

"What for?" he asked.

Amber turned her head to face him. Her usually bright green eyes were dull and bloodshot and red rimmed from crying. "From coming when I sent you the text, for not telling the others, for not asking how I am." She gave a weak chuckle. "I never thought I'd say this but I really like that you don't care much, or don't think to ask how others are. Everyone asks how I am. Every day even when the answer I give is always the same. No one stops, they just ask and ask and ask. You're a breath of fresh air." She admitted leaning her head onto his shoulder, he sat that close to her. "Thank you Sherlock. Just thanks."

"You're welcome," he blurted out in utter surprise at someone actually thanking him without being sarcastic about it. "Has Lestrade found anything?"

Shacking her head she sighed before delving into what she had learned from Lestrade that morning. She explained about the pictures, the lack of any notable features in the pictures to use as reference points, the lock of hair and the partial finger print on the bag. She told him her idea that the stalker, well killer as Amber was now referring to him as, had been careless enough to leave some epithelial cells on the ribbon around the hair. She even told him that Lestrade was working the case despite the fact it wasn't his department. That surprised him as well.

"I don't think anything is going to come out of the search, at least not yet. The partial from my last package was run through the system and nothing was found. I highly doubt that this man is in the system. He's probably laying low, has been for all his life I suppose. Lestrade is going to run the prints through the international database in the hopes that this man might not be local or that he has accidentally committed a crime outside the UK. I'm hopeful but I'm not jumping up and down yet."

"She'll be fine,"

"What?" Amber removed her head from his shoulder to look at him. Confusion with a hint of pain clouded her eyes.

"You're sister, she'll be fine. She has been held captive for three years now as you said and she's still alive."

Amber laughed sadly. "Bri has always been a stubborn one. Kelly was the soft one, the one who screamed if she so much as received a paper cut. But the mind and body can only take so much before it breaks. She'll break. I just don't know when that will happen."

She began to shake, softly, wrapping her arms around herself as she felt another round of tears coming on. "Bri is my only remaining link to my childhood. I want her back."

Like much of what a normal person would feel, he didn't understand the attachment to one's sibling. Maybe it was because of how he was raised or because Mycroft wasn't the easiest person to get along with, or maybe it was just he himself. But he knew that John and his sister weren't close, not to the point that they'd feel broken inside if the other were to have died. Yet the woman beside him hadn't seen her older sister in over three years, and rarely visited her before that, sat here crying for the other woman.

While she cried, he tried to think of what he could do besides sitting there awkwardly. Tentatively he put his arm around her shoulders giving her a gentle nudge into his body. She took no other prompting to lean into him for comfort. She was tense as he supported her, as if she knew he wasn't as comfortable with this as John would have been. But after a few moments, when she realized he wasn't moving her away, she scooted closer and snuggled into him while she let herself weep for her missing and abused sister.

Her phone began to ring suddenly, the sound from that annoyingly inaccurate show she had proven to be so enamored with carrying through the park. He felt a little bit of a loss when she moved away from him fumbling for her mobile in her pocket. Reading the front for a moment she finally sighed, rubbed her eyes and answered.

"I'm fine." She rolled her eyes. "I'm at the park." She sighed. "Sherlock is with me Meg. You lot can stop worrying." He watched her eyes darken. "I'll be home in a couple of hours. Just leave it be Meg." And with that she slapped her phone shut, hitting a button and stuffing it into her pocket once more.

"I hate her sometimes all she does is worry. Next thing I know she'll be telling me to see a therapist for some kind of trauma."

"I saw an appointment on your calendar in your flat. I assume you're already seeing one."

Amber actually chuckled. "Mandated actually. Dr. Latimer works for the Yard and after the dilemma at the Gala, Lestrade believed it would be wise if I saw someone to work through anything I might have suffered mentally."

"You would have been fired if you hadn't of gone?"

She shook her head. "No, I wouldn't have been allowed to work homicide scenes if I hadn't of gone. I had one session the day I was cleared by the doctor to work again and the appointment you saw in my flat is a follow up to make sure I am fine even though I've been mentally cleared. I believe Lestrade will be informing Latimer about this and I'll have a couple more sessions before the year is out."

They sat there in a semi-uncomfortable silence before Sherlock spoke. "We should go back to the flat."

Amber gave him a half smile and asked, "Could we just stay here a little while longer. I'm not ready to face the wrath of Megan."

"I suppose," he said with a half smile of his own. He had to admit it wasn't the most alluring option, going back to the flat. John would have realized by now where he had gone and no doubt he would be rather upset. Megan as well and Mrs. Hudson. He really didn't want to hear them ranting at him about how he should have called or taken her home immediately after finding her.

She looked at him. "Thank you Sherlock. I know I've already said it but I mean it."

He didn't expect what happened next. She leaned forward planting her lips lightly on his. She pulled back moments later after she realized what she had done. It was a chaste kiss, as far as kisses go, but there was something there. A spark he hadn't felt when having kissed other women, not that the list was long. In fact it was rather small. He could probably count the number of woman he had kissed on one hand.

"Sorry," she mumbled with a blush.

"Would you like to go get dinner? I assume you haven't eaten at all today," he said rather lamely, not really knowing what else to say.

Amber was still bright red as she nodded vigorously. "I'm truly sorry, I didn't mean to kiss you. Not like that at least."

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

"You aren't mad?" Genuine surprise showed in her tone as she carefully stood up with the help of Sherlock's hands. "We haven't exactly talked about whatever the hell we are right now. I thought you'd have been mad because I kissed you."

With an exasperated sigh, he gently put his hand behind her head and pulled him into her for another, much less chaste, kiss. He watched her red rimmed eyes widen in shock before slowly closing as she kissed him back. He couldn't say he was a skilled kisser, having been rather inexperienced with women in general, but from her response he was sure he wasn't terrible at it.

Sherlock was not a fan of physical contact and he hadn't expected to enjoy kissing her as much as he actually did. With Amber it seemed natural. No awkward contact or worries of where to put his hands, not expectations of anything more than just this. It was a simple, sweet, and intimate kiss.

He was the first to pull back, one of his hand still at the back of her head while the other had settled on her hip. Her hands were pressed against his chest, more or less grabbing at the front of his coat. She blinked a couple of times before giving a very small and tentative smile. "Thank you," she mumbled.

"You keep saying thank you. I don't understand why," he huffed, running his hand absently down the length of her short hair noting how soft it was, until his hand landed on her shoulder.

Amber cast her gaze downward and she kicked at the grass with the tip of her foot. "I disappeared today Sherlock. I upset a lot of people by refusing to call or answer my messages. Most people would get mad. I know Megan is going to scream, John is going to worry over me as is Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade is going to see it as a mental break. But you," she rubbed her hands against his chest lightly. "You just show up when I call. You don't bug me about what's wrong and you don't push me to do something I don't want to do, like go home and talk to everyone. You just understand in your own strange way, even if you don't realize. No one in my life has ever just been there. They have always tried to fix something. So when I say thank you it's just me being grateful for the fact that you are how you are."

She let her hands drop away from his chest but didn't break the contact. Instead she just reached for his hand, linked her fingers with his and watched him as he glanced at her their intertwined hands, unsure of how he felt about it. "Lets go get something to eat." She grinned, not giving him any more time to think about what she had just said.

When he felt her tug him gently he gave her a flash of a smile and together they walked hand in hand out of the park. He wasn't sure what this meant for them and whatever it was they were to one another, but he was happy, well and truly happy for the first time in a very long time.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Review please!**

**A/N: So, OOC or not? Also I have a poll of my page, please vote! It will be closed on Feb. 1st. Thanks to those who have already voted!**


	21. Chapter 20

_Hello there everyone! Another day another chapter! Thank you to all who have read, reviewed, favorited, or alerted this story. _

__bored411: Thank you! I didn't want their relationship to progress to fast but It'll be moving a tad but faster now, I think.

Stupidstef666(guest): Thank you!

Guest: You have no idea how much your review meant to me. I'm so glad that you enjoy this story and see my character's as believable. I smiled so wide when I read your review, I'm not kidding you! SO thank you so much!

Empress Of Verace: As always thank you :)

Gwilwillith: Thank you!

MismatchedSocksandKnickers: First off I love your pen name, it's so cute! Secondly thank you so much. Yes, Sherlock is the only one who can make Amber feel better because he is socially stupid. And look for more kissing in the future ;) Hope you enjoy the chapter!

_So enjoy the chapter and please feel free to give me feedback. This chapter kind of got away from me a bit in the end and I hope nothing is too OOC. Let me know._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, BBC does. I own Amber, Megan, and anything/one you do not recognize. _

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**[020]**

It was Monday morning and Amber found herself sitting in the therapist's office once more, this time on more voluntary terms. She tapped the tip of her heel clad foot on the carpeted floor as she sat before Dr. Latimer, ten minutes before her session was supposed to start. The silence was uncomfortable as they both fought to find some neutral subject to talk about.

"I heard you helped solve a case Saturday. High profile robbery of a wealthy couple," Latimer started awkwardly with a smile.

Amber shifted in her spot, crossed her legs at the knee, before giving in and sighing. "It wasn't that impressive. Stupid bloke couldn't even escape properly. He left footprints everywhere, dried footprints. Found him holed up in a cupboard." She brushed at a stray piece of lint of her gray pinstripe trousers.

She wore one of the three suits she owned. This one was a dark gray bespoke pinstripe number fitted to her form. In fact all of her suits were bespoke and form fitting. Today she wore a pale lavender silk blouse with ruffles along the buttons. It made a heavenly match to the gray of the suit and surprisingly it didn't clash with her hair.

"I heard from Lestrade that it was you who found the prints."

She agreed with a slight nod. "Yes, I did. The prints had come from the man having walked around in wet socks. I assume he had taken off his shoes because they were muddy from the rain. They were dried and hard to find. I believe the techs would have found them eventually," she mumbled out, feeling a tab but nervous about taking credit for the take down of a criminal the Yard had been looking for over the past six months.

"Have you thought about becoming a detective?" The doctor asked kindly, tapping the tip of her pen against the fresh notepad on her lap.

Amber shook her head before saying, "I haven't given it much thought, not in a while that is. I don't like the idea of having to go to school and then working my way up again. I like photography and I like crime solving. Best of both worlds I suppose." She gave a shrug hoping her reasoning was sound.

"Well you have a talent for it."

"Thank you." Amber shot a glance at the clock on the desk. "Our time started a minute ago."

Latimer laugh brightly. "Eager to be done with me?"

"No offense meant, but yes. I'm not to keen on therapists in general. I went thought several a child as you know, bit a couple as well. Your profession isn't one I favor though I don't hold that against you. You seem like a lovely woman." Amber hoped that she didn't sound lame as she spoke.

Latimer found herself smiling softly while writing a note on the page of paper before her. "None taken. You had therapy for your parents, and later your brother's, death correct?"

"Yes. I went once to therapy after my twin sisters' kidnapping and the death of my sister Kelly."

"Lestrade informed me that your sister Brianna is still alive, that you received a package with photos and a lock of her hair. Is that correct?" Latimer flicked through some of her older notes before looking up to Amber once more, a polite smile playing at her lips.

Amber sighed, refraining from rubbing at her face. She wore makeup and she really didn't want to mess it up. So instead she kept her hands clasped in her lap, her knuckles white from how hard they were gripped together. "Yes, you're correct. Bri is apparently alive, not so much well that is."

"Do you want to speak about it?"

"Is my job on the line if I don't?" She countered with an even glance at the therapist.

Latimer rose her brow. "No it isn't. Lestrade doesn't believe this will impact your job, as long as you aren't working the case, which you can't do anyways. He did mention that you ran off after you found out."

Amber sighed again, allowing her self to pinch the bridge of her nose. "I didn't run off. I just needed some space. I went to the park and eventually called Sherlock. I didn't hurt myself or slip into a depression. I just wanted to be alone for a bit. A girl is allow to do that."

"You called Sherlock when you wanted someone to talk to?" Latimer began scribbling frantically on her notepad.

The redhead rolled her eyes, once more wishing she wasn't wearing makeup. "He's the only one who wasn't going to get mad at me for running about without calling or informing anyone where I was. He wouldn't pester me about how I was feeling either."

Latimer looked at her for a moment, wrote something down, and then sat there for a second thinking about what she was going to ask next. "You didn't want to be bothered correct?"

"That's correct. I get tired of people asking me if I'm fine, or if I want to talk about it. Every time something happens someone is always there with more questions, annoying questions which don't need to be answered because they are so obvious." Amber huffed, happy to have that out in the open. It was one of the things nagging her about her close friends and family.

"And Sherlock doesn't do that? Ask questions that is?"

Amber shook her head rather vigorously, a stray lock falling out of pins holding it back. "No, he doesn't ask questions and doesn't expect me to tell him everything I'm feeling. His presence is a comfort rather than an annoyance I suppose."

Latimer noted the look on Amber's face, wrote it down and proceeded. "Are you and he dating?"

"We went on a date, yes. We had dinner the other night and we are having tea today before court," she looked at her watch while speaking, realizing that not as much time had passed as she had thought. "I don't know if that counts as dating but John and Megan assume it does, so the answer is yes."

"And how are you liking being in a relationship with Sherlock Holmes?"

"As I said I wouldn't say we have a relationship in the common sense. We're just dipping out toes into this couple thing, I think. I don't even think we are calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend, which I don't think Sherlock would be to please about. We haven't really talked much about it really. I believe it's about time we do though." She came to this startling realization in that very second. It was time to talk with Sherlock, see if this was going to go anywhere or if they were still experimenting, so to speak.

"Is this your first relationship since your divorce?"

Amber was amazed with how much that woman knew about her past. She was also giving up on correcting Latimer about her relationship status with Sherlock. Better to just agree and go with it. "It would depend on your definition of relationship. I have dated a little, nothing serious. I haven't wanted to I guess."

"And now you do?"

"I don't mean to sound rude or defensive, but I truly am curious as to how this pertains to my mental state and whether or not I'm fit enough for work?" She put her hands once more in her lap, feeling that impatient itch to get up and leave. This was why she hated therapists. They always liked to dig their nose into things that didn't concern them. Her relationship to Sherlock, if that was what she could call it, had nothing to do with what had happened in the last month. That wasn't exactly the truth. She knew full well that if she had never met Sherlock Holmes she wouldn't have been at that Gala, but she still would have been at the mercy of this stalker.

"We're just talking Amber." It was a lie, a well executed lie that a normal person wouldn't have been able to catch. Amber wasn't a normal person.

She leveled a glare at the older woman. "I'm not daft Dr. Latimer and I understand a little better than most how therapy works. You make me open up about things that have no relevance to what we should be talking about, you recommend more sessions and ensure that I'm going to come here on a regular basis."

"Lestrade was right about you. Quick as a whip." She seemed pleased about that, as if some kind of great questions had been answered.

"And as sharp as one too. Now please, either lets cut this short or get down to why I'm here."

Seeing that she was beat, Latimer smiled. "How have you been dealing with all this?"

Amber inwardly sighed thankful to be finally getting back to what the session was supposed to be about. "All this being the terrible situations I've found myself in?" She received a nod from the doctor. "I've been fairing quite well surprisingly. Haven't completely broken down but then again I think that might just be because I've dealt with so much I just can't do it any more." She shrugged.

"So this isn't affecting you much?"

She shifted in her seat, uncrossed her legs and recrossed them with the opposite on top of the other one. "I wouldn't say that. I've been distraught, a little confused and more than a little upset. I've had my moments where I'll just sit there and cry. A normal response to being nearly killed and then finding out my stalker is a killer who still has once of my sister's tied up somewhere in the country, wouldn't you say?"

The doctor nodded her agreement. "But you've got a hold of your emotions, correct?" Latimer was writing as she talked.

With a nod Amber said, "Yes, exactly." She didn't offer up anything else.

"Good, that's good. Have you been losing sleep or found yourself eating less?"

Standard questions to which Amber would have yawned if she hadn't found it rude. "No, not at all."

"Sleeping or eating more than normal then?"

"Besides trying to recuperate from being sick, no I haven't gotten more than the normal amount of sleep. Haven't eaten more than normal either." She was becoming a tad bit bored now.

Latimer looked over her papers, in a vain hope to find something else to talk about. "Well to be truthful I don't think there is anything else we need to talk about, since you seem so adamant that your relationship with Sherlock has anything to do with anything. I can only suggest that you make an appointment for next month just encase anything comes up with your sister's case that you might need to talk about." She closed the notepad slowly, as if waiting for Amber to give in and begin talking once more.

Amber started to stand. "How about I just call to make an appointment if anything comes up?" she asked while slipping on her suit jacket, followed by her coat and scarf. She leaned down grabbing her purse off the floor.

"You can do that too if you want."

"Thank you, for your time and for not pushing like some might have." Amber was being genuine as she spoke. She did like the doctor before her, didn't mind that she was a therapist.

"You're welcome Amber."

Amber smiled as she opened the door and started to slip out. Latimer called to her. She stopped and turned her head, "Yes?"

"Amber, if you need someone to talk to, I am here. I know this isn't easy and that you don't want to talk about it, but sometimes it's best to talk to someone you aren't close to. It doesn't have to be a session, not if you don't want it to be."

This time Amber's smile reached her eyes. "I have your office number. If I find myself in need of a session I'll call, though I can't guarantee I will." She had purposely avoided part of the statement of Latimer offering her ear as a friend instead of a therapist.

"I'll be looking for your call."

"Have a good day Dr. Latimer," Amber said walking out the door with a smile. She headed down to the homicide division, as requested before her trip down to court. She rapped twice on the door frame of Lestrade's office.

"Amber, come in," the detective called when he noticed it was her standing there. "Nice suit." He eyed the fancy outfit she wore.

"Thanks," She rolled her eyes as she walked in sitting herself in yet another office chair. "Anything new on Bri's case?"

"Nothing yet, the labs are taking their sweet old time getting the results back to us. I'll let you know if anything turns up," he said distractedly as he closed the folder before him. "I hear you have the robbery case this afternoon in court. Kind of early for a case closed not more than three days ago."

"It's a high profile case." She shrugged. "They want it over with as fast as possible." Glancing at her watch she winced. She was supposed to meet Sherlock in fifteen minutes at a cafe down the street. "I'm sorry but I have to go, I promised I'd meet Sherlock early for tea."

"You and him, huh? Never thought I'd see the day he was dating anyone, let alone you."

Amber grinned now, proud that she and Sherlock were shocking people. She didn't say anything, just gave a simple wave as she breezed out of the office. She greeted people she knew as well as those she didn't, smiling as she did so. She took the stairs, despite her feet being in heels.

Exiting the building she entered the flow of foot traffic on the pavement. It was getting colder as December dragged on but she didn't mind that cold. The walk from the Scotland Yard building to the cafe was five minutes at the most, even while in two inch pumps.

Much to her enjoyment, she beat Sherlock. She ordered a small coffee along with a hot sandwich and chips. Taking the coffee and receipt she found herself a corner table in the back where it was warmer and away from the door. She sipped at the black coffee while waiting for her food to be made and Sherlock to show up. For once she had the food before Sherlock showed.

Halfway through her chips she once more looked at her watch as she began to worry where Sherlock was. She palmed her phone on the table in front of her while stuffing a chip into her mouth none to lady-like. Giving in, she unlocked her phone and looked for a message.

Nothing. She simply sighed, giving in to the fact that Sherlock had found something more interesting than meeting her. She didn't know why this came as a surprise but it did, and it hurt.

Amber began to nibble on her sandwich, no longer actually feeling hungry.

"Sorry for being late," her head whipped up when she heard the sound of Sherlock's baritone. She smiled up at him, gesturing to the seat beside her. "I was visiting with a potential client John talked with. Simple case, missing husband."

"Oh, that's terrible. Did you take the case?" she questioned, offering up the remainder of her chips. He looked at them dubiously before deciding to take one.

After popping the chip in his mouth and chewing it he explained a little more about the case itself, "I said it was a simple case. The husband had left the wife for a younger woman. It was all there, all the little hints. The wife no longer wearing her wedding band, claiming she was having it re-sized. I could tell by the slight tanning on the pale skin where her ring should have been, she hadn't been wearing the ring for weeks now. Pictures of the couple were missing, the spots on the wall bare where the frames used to hang. No trace of a man within the house. I looked over the bedroom. Clothing were missing, and a sizable amount of money had been taken from their bank account."

"So why did the wife think he had gone missing, or something worse had happened?" She took a bite out of her now cold sandwich. It still tasted good, but it would have been better if it had been warm.

He took another chip, liking how she smiled when he ate. "She was under the assumption that they were going to work through their differences. Apparently her husband had other thoughts."

"Why didn't he just divorce her then? It would have been easier."

"She served him a prenuptial before they were married. Having an affair left the husband with nothing if his wife were to find out."

"He still gets nothing in the end, stupid git," she scoffed before taking a sip of her coffee. She grimaced when she realized it was now less than warm but still good nonetheless."I can safely assume you were bored?"

He nodded. "Nothing seems to be happening in this city. I'd love a good murder right about now."

Despite the absurdity of his statement Amber laughed, not really agreeing but knowing that if a good case didn't turn up soon everyone who knew Sherlock was in for a hell of a ride. "Well I can't say you'll get what you wish for but I hope a good case flies your way. Wouldn't do to have you bored. I ran out of fags the other day and I don't plan on buying any more. Megan will have my head as will John if they find out I'm sneaking fags and dolling them out to you."

If Amber had to describe Sherlock's expression she would have said he was pouting. "A couple of cigarettes hasn't hurt anyone before. I doubt a couple more would do any damage."

With a shake of her head Amber pushed away the last of her coffee and began to play with the edges of her napkin. "It's time I give up that particular vice for good and I know that it isn't going to be easy for you, without your steady supply of contraband. I'm sure you'll find a way around it." She rose her brow as she dared him to counter her statement. Sherlock would always find a way around restrictions like the one she was giving him.

"I'll make due I suppose. I can still use your flat to stash them."

Amber shook her head. "I don't think so. If I happen to find them I'll smoke them and that will go against what I want."

"Fine," Sherlock huffed, in a similar manner to that of a child who wasn't getting his way.

She smiled despite herself and flicked her gaze to her watch. She was cutting it close and if she waited around any longer she was going to be late. "Sorry, Sherlock but I've got to get going. I've got court." She got up, slipped on her coat and scarf, and tossed her trash in the bin while Sherlock followed her out of the cafe.

"I'll see you later, right?" She asked fidgeting with the edge of her scarf. When it came to Sherlock she didn't know what to expect. He had her all twisted up inside, feeling like a teenage girl once again. She wasn't sure whether she liked the feeling her brought about within her or if she hated it. It was still up for debate but for the time being she was going to ride along with the feelings, something she hadn't done in the past, not even with her ex-husband.

"Of course."

With a smile she leaned forward and pecked him lightly on the lips, pleased to see his look of stunned surprise with the undertone of joyfulness. "Good. I'll get Chinese and then we can watching something on the telly and criticize the details," she suggested knowing that he enjoyed doing that. She had learned that over the course of the weekend, seeing as he had barely left her alone with herself. She had a feeling John had said something to keep the consulting detective hounding her night and day. Didn't matter really, she enjoyed her time with him.

"I will see you tonight then," Sherlock gave her one of his half smiles which had her trying not to roll her eyes.

"Tonight it is then," she called as she began once more to join the foot traffic headed through the city. She didn't wait to hear if he responded, just continued on her with thoughts of an evening with Sherlock floating through her mind.

0000000000000

Tossing her keys into the bowl on the stand just inside her flat, Amber tugged at her scarf and coat tossing them haphazardly over the back of a chair as she moved through the flat. She kicked off her pumps, hearing the satisfying thunk of them hitting the baseboard against the wall. She padded her way to her room, her stocking covered feet sliding slightly on the carpeting.

When she was in her room she stripped down to her bra and pants, hanging both the blouse, suit jacket and trousers on a hanger which she planned on taking to the cleaner tomorrow. Sitting on the edge of her bed she pulled off her stockings, reached for her robe which was draped across the bed, and headed for the bathroom.

She washed her face, brushed out her hair and put it up before heading once more to the living room. She opened Rose's hatch, letting the little rabbit out to hop around freely. Amber went about her usual chores of replacing the old water in the rabbit's bottle and filling the food bowl while laying down some fresh hay. She filled Nix's bowl of food for the night and gave her more water before grabbing a beer out of the fridge and heading for the living room.

Flopping back on the couch she reached across to grab for her coat, barely managing to snag it with the edge of her fingers. She fished out her mobile wishing Sherlock would call. He had sent her a text hours ago letting her know that Lestrade had caught a homicide case that needed his level of intelligence. Amber had not been called to photograph the scene, much to her pleasure, but that meant her evening in with Sherlock had to be canceled.

Now she sat in her flat all alone. It was odd, that feeling of being alone. It had been weeks since she had been utterly alone with herself. Usually Sherlock was around, Megan, Mrs. Hudson or John even. Someone was always there. Tonight it was only Amber, no one was around. The building was locked securely for fear of another break in, and while she knew she was safe it was still a hard realization that her stalker could be waiting right outside.

Yet she didn't feel that surge of fear as she would have days ago. She felt calm and at ease, a feeling of serenity finally setting over her. She hadn't realized how much she wanted to be alone. She would have loved to have Sherlock around, would have loved to have someone to watch telly with and share a beer while talking about her day in court. But she hadn't even realized how much she had wanted to be by herself until right that moment, beer in her hand, feet on the table, and silence floating through her flat.

It was utterly perfect.

Not more than a half an hour and two more beers later, Amber found herself curled up on the couch, a throw pillow under her head with the low hum of the television on some random talk show. She had watched the last half of a rerun of one of her shows and was now being lulled into much needed sleep.

Stretching languidly on the couch she snuggled deeper into the pillow as the foggy haze of sleep began to pull her into the darkness. She slipped under without a fight, a smile on her face.

She dreamt of the violin, the soft melody flowing through the air. She could hear the strings, the sound of the bow humming as each note sang through her flat. She felt a warm hand on her flushed skin, the light touch of soft fingertips ghosting over her back, traveling slowly, oh so slowly down her spine until they settled on at the hollow of her back.

Another hand cupped her cheek, the pad of a thump swiping gently across her cheek bone as her lips met another pair of surprisingly soft lips. The kiss was slow, steady and in no way rushed. A tangle of tongues as she explored him and he explored her. Those hands, so skilled at the violin, once more floated along her spine, traveling up to her neck, pulling her deeper into the kiss until she was finally pressed flush against a lean body.

She moaned softly as the lips moved from her mouth to kiss lightly along her neck, his hands kneading at her supple hips as she moved beneath his lean form. Her hands gripped his shoulders, feeling his muscles flex. She groaned as his teeth scrapped against the sensitive skin on the side of her neck, kisses were pressed lower moving down to her chest.

A loud sound began to drown out the violin music. She growled, mentally yelled at the noise to stop. It did after a moment, only to flare once more just as she felt his hot mouth lave at her breast.

Amber jerked awake, incredibly hot and flustered as she reached aimlessly for her mobile which was ringing frantically on the floor where it had fallen. She groaned as she shifted, having not realized how aroused she really was. It had been a long while since such feelings had coursed through her body.

She answered the phone, seeing Sherlock's picture and name on the screen. "Hello?" she mumbled groggily, laying on her back and stretching her body out across the length of the couch. She realized her robe had fallen open and she was now left exposed to the cool air of the flat. The air helped to tamp down her arousal, but only a little.

"Amber, are you in your flat?"

"Yes. Why?" She felt no urge to do much of anything but lay there and imagine those skilled hands once more traveling over her body. "Are you home?"

"No, I'm just leaving the crime scene. I needed to speak with you. The case Lestrade called me in on, it was the same killer." He sounded excited, giddy almost.

Amber perked up though she was confused. "What killer? The killer who took Bri?"

"No Amber, the one who skinned that man two weeks ago." He now sounded exasperated.

"You'll have to excuse me Sherlock. I was just woken up to be told there is another killer on the loose. You'll have to forgive me for not realizing who you were talking about." She ground out. Sherlock annoyed her sometimes, more often than a normal person did but she tolerated it for the sake of the fact she liked and enjoyed his company.

"I'll be back at Baker Street in twenty minutes." That was all he said before he hung up on her, leaving Amber to wonder if she had said something to offend or upset him in some way. It wasn't unusual for Amber, or even Megan, to say something which got under Sherlock's skin. He had gotten better at tolerating it from the two woman, more so from Amber than Megan that was, but he still often harped a good bit at them.

Flinging herself off the couch and to her feet, Amber quickly grabbed the two beer bottles, the plate on the table, and grabbed at her coat and scarf. She headed to the kitchen first dropping the bottles into the bin and placing the plate in the sink. She draped her coat on the back of the hook on the back of the door. She slipped into her bedroom in order to slip on a tee shirt and a pair of flannel pajama bottoms.

Next she stuffed Rose back in her hutch, after having to spend several minutes searching the rabbit out, finding her behind the couch nibbling on some pilfered cat food. After that, with nothing more to do, Amber sat herself on the couch and began flipping through the channels in hopes of finding something interesting to watch.

In the end she settled for a rerun episode of The Hour. It wasn't one of her favorite shows but it was enjoyable nonetheless. She settled in once more waiting for the knock to come on her door. When it did, she simply shouted for Sherlock to come in, having already anticipated his arrival.

"Good evening," Sherlock greeted, pulling off his scarf and coat. He laid them on the back of a chair and took a seat there as well. "How was court?" he asked being polite, she knew.

Amber stretched in a lazy fashion, noting that Sherlock's blue eyes ran the length of her body. It wasn't the first time she had caught him looking, letting her know that he was a man not a machine he claimed to be. She liked when he looked at her, it made her feel pretty even if she didn't know what he was thinking. "Hello there," she said with a lazy smile. "Court was long and annoying, and pretty much boring. I was craving a fag the whole time, felt like I was going to go mad sitting there. So tell me about your case."

"Another skinning, no evidence to be seen. The police are confused, which doesn't surprise me at all." He sounded frustrated, annoying, and a little bit confused.

She tried to hide the laughter in her eyes and building in her throat. "I'm sure Lestrade and his men will find something sooner or later, hopefully before this bastard kills again."

Sherlock nodded. "However I doubt it. With the lack of evidence there is no way to discover the identity of the killer. I'm hard pressed to say this, but I am at a loss as well." It was out of character for him to say such a thing but it was the truth.

Knowing that admitting that had been hard, Amber got up and sat herself on the arm of his chair. She laid a hand on his shoulder causing him to turn his head upwards to look at her. "I'm sure you'll find something to help solve the case. In the mean time why don't I make you something to eat?" she asked gently, knowing Sherlock rarely ate when he was in the middle of an active case. Seeing as he was in the middle of two cases at the moment, hers and the skinner, she was betting that he was going to turn her down.

"Whatever you'd like," he smirked at her, having already figured out she would have expected him to decline her offer. When she rose a brow he rolled his eyes causing her to laugh.

He sat there while she nudged him before getting up and walking to the kitchen. He watched her retreating form. He was surprised at how much he enjoyed being her in presence. He had actually looked forward to seeing her when he had been sitting in the taxi being driven back to Baker Street. She was a breath of fresh air, someone who didn't yell at him when he put down those working at Scotland Yard or when he happened to be late meeting her. She understood and didn't expect him to change or do something out of the ordinary.

With a ghost of a smile whispering across his lips as he realized how much he really liked Amber, he got up from the chair to join her in the kitchen.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Review Please!**

**A/N: Just a reminder to those of you who haven't voted, I have a poll on my profile. It only takes a minute to vote so please do so. The poll will be closed on Feb. 1st. Once more thanks for reading and feel free to give me some feedback. I always love to hear from you guys! **

**Until next time!**


	22. Chapter 21

_Hello there. Sorry for the wait. I've been super busy with my classes and this chapter took a while to write because I just couldn't get it right. I hope it came out good. _

CarminaxBuranax: I hope you don't find this chapter to mushy or OOC, though I've got a feeling it might be a bit of both.

Mika Carrol: Thank you! Enjoy the update!

BrokenCalibre: I'm so happy you're loving this so far. I'm also happy to hear that I am keeping Sherlock in character(though I have my doubts). Enjoy the chapter!

Ambray: I can not explain how large my smile was when I got your review. It was never my intention for someone to stay up until five in the morning reading it, I never thought my story could be that addicting but I'm glad to hear that it is for some. Oh and I wish you luck when watching Sherlock. I'm happy to know another person is joining this wonderful fandom, though it is quite a rollercoaster ride of emotions. So have fun with that! LOL I hope you like the chapter :)

Bored411: Thanks, enjoy the chapter!

Gwilwillith: Thank you! Enjoy the chapter!

ChidorixCixBritannia: I'm glad you think so!

Empress of Verace: I'm glad you loved it. Look for more fluffiness in the future. I don't know, I like fluff lol. I hope you fared well on your exams. I just had some exams this past week so I feel your pain! Enjoy the chapter!

_Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Sherlock. I repeat: I DO NOT own Sherlock. That is all...wait, I DO own Amber, Megan and the plot of this story! That is all!_

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**[021]**

It had been two weeks since Amber had found out her sister was alive. Two weeks since she had been to the therapist. Two whole weeks later and Amber was feeling better than before. She was still a bit on edge, looking over her shoulder, and keeping her ear to the ground, but over all she was feeling good.

Her and Sherlock had fallen into what she could only call a relationship, though neither of them had actually spoken on the topic. They went out to eat two to three times week, and the nights when they didn't go out Amber often found herself cooking for him either in her flat or his. He spent as much time in her flat as she did in his, just enjoying being around one another even if they didn't speak. Megan and John talked of course, wondering what they could be up to when Sherlock disappeared for hours down to Amber's flat. What the two of them didn't know was it was just the two downstairs were simply watching the telly and commenting on terrible acting and horrible reality television.

Amber was happy with this.

Of course at the moment she wasn't in much of a good mood. She was upset and angry as she looked at the skinned woman laying out in a hotel room in Earl's Court. In the last two weeks, two more bodies had shown up skinned around the city. This marked the third victim in two weeks, making the tally now five and counting. Amber had caught four out of those five cases, having to photograph each scene carefully.

Lestrade had attempted to keep her outside the case, knowing she was already threading a thin line between okay and emotionally wrecked. She had put up a fight, eventually yelling at the older man until he gave in an allowed her to do her job. So far she had managed to stay emotionally detached, even though when she went home at night she cried just a little for those whose lives were lost due to this senseless violence.

Now she was regretting having fought Lestrade. She knew she would have been better off working robbery or some other division, handing the cases over to someone else, but she had photographed the first victim and she wasn't willing to let the cases go. While it was a gruesome scene, as the last four had been, she actually enjoyed following a case with her photos. She had a good eye and ninety percent of her photos were used in court and as case references. Only a handful had been thrown out for having issues with the lighting or the angles, never because they were irrelevant or tampered with. She took pride in her work and even though she sometimes wondered why she still did it at all, she liked her work. She helped put monsters behind bars, where they belonged.

"Are you alright?" John's voice broke her silence startling her back into reality. She had already done her job yet she found herself hanging around while Sherlock did his thing. Lestrade was standing in the background, his gaze darting between Amber out of concern and Sherlock to make sure he wasn't doing something wrong. This was the usual happenstance when it came to crime scenes, at least lately that was.

"I'm alright John, a little rattled but over all I'm pretty good. You?" She shifted on the heels of her feet. She should have gone back to the lab with her camera and memory chip to upload the pictures. Yet here she stood because she couldn't be sure if Sherlock would find something that needed to be photographed for the case.

"I—I don't know," he sputtered out. This was the first of the skinning cases where John had actually joined the scene. Most of the time he had stood down with the police doing what she called recon work, scanning the crowd for anyone out of the ordinary. Sherlock called it doing nothing but Amber and John knew different. It was also John's way of protecting himself. He had seen some of the photos which Sherlock had nabbed from the Yard and promptly stated that he had seen some terrible things in the war but seeing those pictures, they had been worse.

She patted his arm, smiling softly at him. "You never get used to it but it does get better."

With a sigh, followed by a yawn, Amber stretched her arms and rolled her shoulders. Lestrade caught her gaze and began to walk her way. Knowing what he was going to say, she stood there in her spot, darting her eyes to Sherlock who was now frowning with furrowed brows. He was on the verge of scowling, it would not be a pleasant night in 221B Baker Street.

_Maybe I should pick up some fags? They'd do us both some good, _she thought to herself. While the idea was appealing she knew it wasn't going to happen. She had been doing so good, having given up smoking. Even Sherlock was fairing well though he often used nicotine patches to take the edge off, sometimes more than one which had Amber ripping a few off his arms, him protesting the entire way. She had learned, or at least had the fact reenforced, that Sherlock could be a bit of a stubborn child at times, especially if he wasn't getting his way. She had tried to train him to be a bit better when it came to this childishness but she was becoming aware that one could not change Sherlock Holmes.

Lestrade finally joined Amber and John, just outside the active scene. "Go to the lab Amber, upload those pictures, and then go home. You look like death."

Amber rolled her eyes, yawned again, and than chuckled. "Thank you for the compliment but I'm perfectly fine. If you want someone to run evidence back to the lab send Anderson. He's frustrating Sherlock again." She wasn't wrong, Anderson had caused some issues for Sherlock in the beginning but after a thorough dressing down by Amber he had backed off allowing the consulting detective to do his work.

"Anderson is working, you're just standing around watching your boyfriend try to figure things out." Amber rose her brow, her mouth setting into a hard line. "Fine you're waiting to do something work related but I doubt anything is going to come up, anything that hasn't already been photographed anyways. Everyone's beginning to leave now and the body is about to be moved. Go back to the lap Devons. Now," he ordered.

Amber grumbled her consent, tossed a few choice words at the older DI and finally walked to Sherlock. When Lestrade called after her she simply made an obscene gesture that had anyone left at the scene chuckling. If her vulgar expressions and hand gestures lightened the mood, so be it.

"Sherlock," she called lightly snapping her fingers to get his attention. She tiptoed around the blood coming to stand beside him. "Sherlock, love, I need to talk to you."

"What?" He snapped before glancing at her.

She paid his snappish nature no mind, knowing he didn't like being distracted when trying to work a case. "I'm headed to the lab and then back to my flat. I'm going to cook a light dinner. Join me?"

"I don—"

Amber held out her hand to stop him. "I know you don't eat. Half a sandwich won't kill you," she huffed, giving a slight pout. So far she had found that pouting made him give into her a little easier than forcing him to do something.

"Fine but only half."

"Works for me," she grinned and stood on her tip toes to kiss him squarely on his lips. The kiss wasn't as chaste as their first kiss had been, this one involving a little more contact and a little more time. Her smile was like that of a Cheshire cat as she pulled away hearing the silence in the room. "See you later Sherlock," she said with another quick kiss to his lips.

She once more walked around the blood, grinning at everyone who happened to be staring open mouthed at the sight they had just witnessed. Even John, who had seen Amber kiss Sherlock at least a dozen times in the last two weeks, was staring slack jawed at her as she walked by. She patted him on the cheek and headed out of the hotel, a large smile on her face.

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Amber stood in her kitchen staring into the fridge trying to find something to throw together into a sandwich and maybe a small side salad for her and Sherlock to share. Truthfully she wasn't as hungry as she should have been, but considering what she had just seen, her stomach wasn't willing to keep much food down. She had already downed a glass of red wine in a vain attempt to drown out the images floating around her mind.

She heard her front door open and heard Megan call out for her. Not bothering to move, Amber shouted that she was in the kitchen and began to actually poke around her fridge. She found a package of deli chicken and smoked Gouda. Grabbing that, along with some green leaf lettuce and a tomato, she placed it on the counter behind her.

Megan was joining her as she reached into her bread drawer coming out with a half a loaf of whole wheat bread. She reached for the honey mustard in the fridge, tossing the well sealed plastic container on the counter. "Hey, making dinner. Do you want a sandwich or salad. That's about as much as I've got left in the flat."

"You haven't gone shopping?" Megan questioned as Amber grabbed three plates and a medium bowl.

"Haven't gotten the chance," Amber muttered, once more going into the fridge coming out with red leaf lettuce, arugula, and a carrot. "I've been busy with the skinnings and we've had a couple of robberies in the tourist areas. I've been working those cases. We're run a little thin at the Yard and with Christmas literally just around the corner I haven't even gotten the chance to go Christmas shopping. I plan on doing that tomorrow. I've got half a day off so I'm going to get my chores done then."

"Wow, half a day off and you plan on getting Christmas and grocery shopping done?" Megan tisked as Amber pulled a bottle of dressing from the fridge, finally slapping it shut for the last time. "I'd love to help but I'm covering a shift for Sally. She's got the flu."

"Don't you dare bring the flu into this building. I just got over the cold and I'm sure as hell not ready to be hugging a toilet. The only time I want to be doing that is New Years when you and I get pissed." Amber grinned as she began to chop the lettuce and carrot for the salad. Once done she set it aside and started on Megan's sandwich.

Her phone beeped. **Be at the flat in ten minutes. John too. -SH**

"Sherlock and John will be home in ten minutes," she said while whipping together a quick sandwich for her friend. She shoved it into the other woman's hands and shooed her out of the flat.

She set about making her own sandwich. She figured if Sherlock was only getting half she would stick to eating the other half. She picked the larger pieces of bread from the bakery round, put the meat and cheese inside with a little more care than she had with Megan's, topped it with mustard and lettuce, and cut it in half, setting a piece on each plate.

Amber slipped both plates inside the fridge. She looked at her phone, saw that she had about three minutes left, and began to toss the salad in the dressing. She stowed everything back in the fridge and poured herself a second glass of wine even though she knew she shouldn't have. At least the alcohol would allow her mind to be somewhere else than on the skinning cases. She didn't want to think about them any more than she had to for work purposes.

Sherlock announced himself a few moments later. "In the kitchen," she called joyfully.

Just as he was coming in she pulled out both plates and the bowl. "I have chicken and Gouda sandwiches as well as a small leafy salad. I know you aren't fond of eating while working but I figured a light dinner might do you some good." She rambled, cursing the wine and rinsed the rest out with a frown. She hated wasting wine but she didn't want to talk overly much nor seem to joyful. "You don't have to eat it all, I just—Well I don't like eating alone any more," she admitted sheepishly. Weakness was not her strong suit and pointing out she no longer liked being alone was a little hard for her.

"I'll eat," he said a little begrudgingly and helped her dish out the salad onto the plates. He took them to the kitchen table and grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge. "You've been drinking," he pointed out when they were seated beside one another.

Amber blushed. "How?" She waved her hands, "No don't bother I know how you know and yes I've had a glass and a half of wine. I needed to unwind. It's been a long day and those images keep floating through my mind. I thought maybe alcohol would help."

"Has it helped?" He asked, putting a few pieces of lettuce into his mouth chewing slowly while watching her with curious blue eyes.

She couldn't help the frown that blossomed across her face. "No, not as much as I would have hoped. I just keep seeing that poor woman. She wasn't even British. She was just a tourist in the wrong places at the wrong time I suppose. Not to good for our tourism. I heard the media is fielding this one and trying to keep it to a minimum, that right?"

"I would assume so," he muttered around his food. He was surprised he was actually eating. If John had made him food he would have taken a single bite before forgetting it was even there, the same with when Mrs. Hudson made him something. With Amber it wasn't a compulsion to eat, it just seemed like the natural thing to do. She made him little meals, nothing to heavy and nothing that would dampen his thinking process. It was just enough to keep him going, like putting a liter of petrol in a car which was threading on empty.

He watched her nibble on her food. Usually she ate with enthusiasm, finishing her food before Sherlock. Tonight, though, she seemed distracted, a little off, and at this rate he was beginning to think he was going to finish his food before she finished off hers. She also looked a little pale, paler than usual that was. Her hair was thrown up in what was a failing attempt at a ponytail, her short curls breaking free oddly around her face. Her green eyes held dark circles underneath as if she wasn't getting much sleep. Her nails, which were usually painted and of a nice length, were now gnawed down to the quick. He hadn't pegged her as a nail biter but he was beginning to see that when under stress Amber did one of two things: she went running or she chewed her nails. Since it was December and the mornings and evenings weren't conducive to running she had begun to chew and pick at her nails, something he had noticed last week after the third skinned body had shown up in SoHo.

"How is your sandwich?" she asked placing the last half of her own down on her plate. As much as she wanted to eat it, she just couldn't stomach it. She'd regret not eating tomorrow morning when she woke up starving and feeling like she hadn't eaten in weeks.

He nodded. "Quite good, are you not hungry?"

She shook her head lightly. "Not really." She pushed her plate away, guilty that she couldn't finish it. She hated to waste food, knowing that it could be going to good use somewhere else. But there were cases, like tonight, where she had to put that guilt out of her mind and realize that she would rather not throw up her dinner when her mind decided to bring those horrid images front and center.

Fiddling with what was left of her finger nails for a minutes she looked at Sherlock. He was watching her, the same way he always watched her when she wasn't acting like herself: with a hint of worry and curiosity. "Any plans for Christmas? I can't get out to see my aunt, uncle, and cousins. We're going to Skype to say hi. I'm looking forward to it."

"John and I hosted a party last year. He was thinking of doing the same this year."

Amber's eyes brightened, a little bit more of her normal self coming back to greet him. He found himself giving her a small smile. "I can make cookies."

"Like the ones you brought for Halloween?"

She laughed, "Similar but no. I make a mint grasshopper drop, peppermint chocolate chip, and frosted sugar cookies. All from scratch." She watched his blue eyes twinkle even while his face stayed impassive. She shook her head softly. "Who do you think will be there?"

And just like that the twinkle was gone. "Everyone," he grunted out.

"It can't be that bad, everyone visiting and handing out gifts, sharing food and listening to music and catching up with one another. I love it, despite my family being gone. My aunt used to host two parties every Christmas. One for the adults and then one for the kids." She smiled fondly at the memory of her childhood growing up with her aunt and cousins. She never wanted anything there, always had what she needed and more. Sometimes she missed those days, even if they had been hard on her sometimes. "Please let John have the party," she pleaded without having meant to. She chuckled lightly to herself.

Sherlock just looked at her. As much as he didn't want to be involved in a party he figured he could tough it out for Amber. He'd play his violin, eat her cookies, and listen to the idle conversation of those he happened to keep close. "I suppose a party wouldn't be horrible. Lestrade would be there, he might have some interesting case for me."

Amber nodded, grabbed his now empty plate along with her half full one. She stood up taking everything to the sink. "I'm surprised Mycroft didn't give you that robbery case. Last I heard the case hadn't been solved." Her voice held a bit of disdain. She wouldn't say she liked Sherlock's older brother, but she didn't hate him either. He seemed like a good man, even if at times his rivalry with Sherlock went off the deep end. She wasn't sure if this was one of those moments or if the case really wasn't worth Sherlock's time. She figured she was going to have to give the older man a call.

"A robbery is simple, even you can solve those," Sherlock mumbled.

She turned around to face him, brows raised and damp hand on her hip. "Are you calling me dumb Sherlock Holmes?"

Hearing the slight sheen of ice in her tone Sherlock flicked his gaze to her face noting that there was a bit of a glint in her eyes and a smile teasing at her lips. "I would never do such a thing. I've seen you at a crime scene."

"I'm not as smart as you I suppose," she gave in, turning back to the dishes. "But I'm damn smart. Smarter than Anderson." She snorted out recalling the man's idiotic rampages during crime scenes. She didn't know why that man didn't like her and refused to work with her. Maybe it was the fact she had turned down his advances. It was more likely it was the fact she had tattled on him to Lestrade more than once since starting her job with the Yard. "I want to punch him sometimes," she admitted before Sherlock said anything.

"I am assured that he brings that emotion to many of the people he meets. John and myself included." Sherlock said surprising himself that he did want to punch the crime scene tech who worked with Amber. Maybe it was being around Amber, a woman who expressed her emotions, which had him being a little more open though only with her.

She laughed lightly. "Go into the living room, turn on the telly, find something interesting. I'll be there in a moment," she shooed him off with a smile and quick peck on the lips. He returned her smile seeing no reason to do anything but what she said.

Sherlock sat on the couch, flicking through the channels and realizing how normal this all seemed. By now, up in his flat, he would have been driving John nuts by being bored or running through ideas on the case. He couldn't say that he didn't drive Amber a bit insane from time to time with his ramblings and moments of utter silence. But more than half the time he found himself at ease when in the basement flat of his girlfriend.

Odd, that word. He never would have thought three months ago he would have a girlfriend. Actually he never would have believed anyone if they had told him by Christmas he would have a girlfriend. Granted, they weren't what anyone would call a conventional couple, seeing as most of their dates consisted of talk of murder. But he seemed to be finding that they fit. She was a soft presences in his life, working around his odd moods and able to take his insults with a snort and a slap to his head if the insult was severe enough. She even tolerated the times where he refused to speak for hours, if not days on end. She would kiss him softly on the lips, run her hand through his hair, and leave him be.

She was affectionate, even when he didn't know how to react to her. She liked physical contact, however, she knew how to not over due it. She never made him uncomfortable, not even after that first kiss in Greenwich Park a little over two weeks ago. She rarely touched him when they were in the public eye, sometimes rarely touching him even when around John and Megan. He didn't mind touching her either, be it a soft brush of his fingers through her red curls, or a brush of his thumb over her cheek when her emotions bubbled over into tears. He liked hugging her and enjoyed kissing her.

From what he had seen of John and Megan's relationship, he and Amber were tame, if not chaste in everything they did. They kissed, often, but rarely did they snog in the manner he had seen other couples do. He knew Amber held back for fear of scaring him off. He wasn't daft, even though he was new to this kind of relationship thing. He would figure it out eventually and he actually found himself enjoying the odd moments where the thought of Amber kissing him senseless popped into his mind unbidden.

"Gone to your mind palace again or just deep in thought?" Amber's voice was light as she curled up into his side on the couch pulling the remote out of his hand. She continued where he had been flipping though the channels, landing on some American show. She left the volume on low and snuggled deeper into his side.

Sherlock found his hand landing on her hip. After a few moments he began to rub small circles with his thumb on the fabric separating him from her skin. He heard her mumbled in appreciation. "I'm glad you're here Sherlock."

"I don't mind being here," he said softly knowing that it was the truth. He could have been going over the photos from all the skinning cases, could have been working on figuring out exactly who was stalking Amber. Yet there he was, on the couch with a woman curled into his side.

"Sherlock," her voice was low, sleepy almost. When he looked down her green eyes blinked, holding a kind of softness he rarely saw in a woman's eyes when it was concerning him. Even Irene's eyes hadn't been soft. Molly's eyes held a soft sadness, but not the softness that floated on the surface of Amber's eyes. It scared him. "You enjoy being with me right? I mean this isn't just some experiment or something, is it?" she asked, which made him realize what the softness in her eyes meant. She was fearful of his rejection.

Sherlock took a moment to think of what he could say in response. When nothing came, he did the only thing he could actually think of. He put his free hand under her chin, tilting her face upwards and bringing his down until his lips connected with hers. He watched her eyes widen in surprise before drifting closed as she leaned farther into him, managing to wiggle herself up so that she was more level with him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers curling into the hair on the back of his head. His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her closer without him having actually meant to.

Her lips were soft as they moved against his. She sighed in contentment, her lips parting just slightly but enough that Sherlock's baser instincts took over. The kiss turned deeper, a little more frantic as they both poured a little bit of their souls into it. She tasted like sweet red wine, the same kind of wine she had been drinking before he had arrived. She was soft against his body, his fingers sinking into the extra flesh of her hips. He felt her hands tighten in his hair, pulling him closer to her as her tongue battled with his.

After a couple of seconds more of kissing, their faces broke apart as they came up for breath. He leaned his forehead against hers. "I enjoy being with you Amber. I wouldn't be sitting here if I didn't. Don't ever doubt that."

"Thank you," she smiled as she spoke, kissed him soundly on the lips once more and snuggled back down into his side. For the moment they were fine and she was reassured that he enjoyed her company. She was happy, safe, and warm curled into Sherlock's side. He chased away the horrible images floating about her head, kept herself from thinking of her sister or her stalker, or anything that seemed to be filling her life lately.

**A/N: I am leaving the poll up until Friday. Please vote while you have the chance! It was funny, I thought one story was going to win but it appears another one has now gained the lead, but only barely. So please go vote!**

**On another note, I apologize if this was a bit fluffy and OOC. I tried to avoid that but sadly things happen. Oh and I apologize for sporadic updates. I am currently in the home stretch before my vacation to England at the beginning to March and I have classes to work around...plus my friend got me hooked on Criminal Minds(anyone else adore that show or is it just me?) XD So yeah, I'll try to get back on a normal update schedule but don't hold me to that lol. **

**Until next time!**


	23. Important Note from Author!

Hello there my lovely readers!

I wanted to let you know a couple of things, nothing major just a bit of a heads up on somethings concerning my stories. First off I wanted to let you all know that I will be on vacation for the next two weeks, well a little less than two weeks. I am leaving early to get a head start on my spring break. I will be out of the country and am not taking my laptop because frankly it is far to heavy to take with me. I do have my tablet but sadly writing on that is a pain in the neck and I'd rather not attempt to write on it (again).

**Concerning my Sherlock story:** The next chapter is in the works. I have been having issues on how to write the chapter without it being overly dramatic or cheesy and awkward. I'm finding that balance but it is taking forever. I can promise that it will be out shortly after I arrive home from vacation. So please hold in there and don't give up on the story. I know it is taking a long time and it has been a while since I updated. I just want everything to be written right. I know you all understand! ALSO, there is another poll on my page. Please take the time to read it and vote. It would be much appreciated.

**Concerning my Doctor Who Story: **I am working on the next chapter. Like with my Sherlock one I am having an issue with how to write the chapter. Sadly it's taking a very long time to find the proper way to write the chapter. I will get through this bout of 'writer's block' but I cannot give a solid time frame of when I will have the chapter up. Just hang in there with me and I swear to you I will get the story back on track! On the plus side the next part of Series 7 starts on March 30th. Who else is excited?! I know I am!

**Concerning my Lost Girl Story: **This story is currently on haitus as I try to work around the actual plot of the show to make my OC work right in the story. I am working on it currently. It should be by the end of the month that I will be able to get a chapter posted and get onto a regular updating schedule. With school it makes things harder. So please don't hate me.

On another and final note, I am having a slight issue with my document manager/editor, so please if something appears as if it is wrong with this note it is not an error on my part (though it is possible that it is).

Thank you all for hanging in there with me and please don't hate me for putting up this author's note. I know I'm not to fond of people putting up notes like this but I felt that this was important. When each story gets updated I will take each of these notes down in each story and repost the new chapter so that you will get an email update that the story has been updated.

Once more thank you all for understanding.

-Midnight Angel414

Oh and for those of you wondering, I'm headed to London. Any ideas of where I should go?


	24. Chapter 22

_First off I apologize for this taking so long to be posted. I have been so busy. Secondly I am not doing individual responses to reviews at the top of this chapter. I'll continue up with that in the next chapter. With that being said I want to thank all of you who reviewed, both about the chapter as well as well suggestions of where to go when I was in London. On that note I will leave you all to read the chapter which I'm sure you all have been patiently waiting for! Enjoy! _

_Disclaimer: I own nothing but Amber and Megan and the plot!_

* * *

**[022]**

The holidays had passed without so much as a hiccup. John and Sherlock had thrown a wonderful Christmas party while Amber herself had thrown a New Years one that had ended with Megan getting drunk and the whole party ending up filmed or photographically recorded.

Much to her surprise the three hour video, which had been cut down to a little over a half an hour with all the interesting bits, ended up on John's blog. Most of Amber's photos had been placed on her personal photo blog. These fact hadn't blown over well with Megan but in the end when she realized there was no stopping it she had simply laughed it off, thankful that she hadn't done anything majorly embarrassing for once.

In those few weeks it would seem, at least to Amber, that life had fallen into a normal, almost boring, pattern. She would get up, go to work, have lunch with Sherlock if he remembered to show up, go home, cook dinner of herself and anyone else she felt like feeding that night, and go to bed. Of course she allotted time in the pattern for dates with Sherlock, some of which were canceled because of her work or an interesting case showing up for Sherlock and John. She made some time for herself as well. Her life seemed to be falling into that normalcy that she had always wished for.

Of course there was no denying that it was only a bandage covering the underlying issues she faced. Though in the past few weeks she hadn't had to deal with her stalker or even work on the skinning cases, it was all still floating over her head like a cloud waiting to explode. She thought of her missing sister often, hoping against all hope that she was still alive to see next Christmas. There was still the niggling feeling that her stalker was still watching her. It all made for a very uncomfortable haze clouding everything Amber did or said, even if no one pointed it out.

So when mid-January rolled around and Amber was chest deep in cases, she wasn't exactly in the proper condition to deal with her stalker showing up once more, this time in a more hauntingly personal way.

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Sometimes Amber hated her days off, other times she loved them so much she wished she was unemployed. Today was one of those days. The weather was horrible, being cold and snowing with the wind whipping something terrible, and she was feeling slightly under the weather to begin with. Nothing more than a small cold like bug she had picked up somewhere along the line but something that would, if given enough time and stress, turn into something that would have had her floored for three days straight.

So now with a lovely glass of red wine, a book, and a large Sherpa lined blanket, Amber made her way to her couch. She scooted Nix gently with her hand until the large cat bound away with her ears back and tail straight in the air. She laughed lightly as she set her glass down and flopped herself comfortably onto the cushions throwing the blanket over her in a careless manner.

She snuggled deeper into the warmth of the couch and blanket, happily sighing as she cracked the spine of the new book she had received for Christmas. It was a new copy of _Les Mis__é__rable_, the full unabridged volume, a gift from Sherlock upon learning her favorite play. She had mentioned she had been meaning to read the book but hadn't managed it. She was surprised when he handed the wrapped gift to her and learned what exactly it was. She was also touched, touched enough that she had nearly thrown the book as she pulled him to her for a deep kiss, a kiss he had returned with just as much heat. Everyone in the room had been shocked at the display and it lead to several rounds of taunting by Lestrade and John later that evening.

"Worth it," she mumbled to herself as she remembered the annoyed look Sherlock had given their friends before going back to play his violin.

Just as she was about to start the book she heard her phone ring from her bedroom. She listened carefully hearing it was her text alert tone rather than her ringer. Blowing it off, figuring it was work, she began to read her book. She wanted nothing more than to get lost in a story if only for a couple of hours before reality came crashing back down on her as it usually did.

Sherlock and John were out on a case, Megan was at work, and Mrs. Hudson was out doing whatever it was she did when no one was around. She worried about them all in the cold and snowy conditions but she had the day to herself and she was going to act like it was her day for once. No thinking about her boyfriend or her friends. No thoughts of work, her stalker, or her older sister. Today was hers.

Her mobile sounded again. She growled but continued on.

Four more times her mobile sounded off over the course of a single hour. She snarled as she throw off her blanket and carefully laid her book on the table, pages down to save her spot. Removing herself from the couch, she took the wine with her, knocking it back before she even hitting the hall. She crossed through the kitchen on her way, filling up her glass before heading back to her room.

Her mobile was sitting on the charger cord on the top of her nightstand. She scooped it up, unlocked it with her passcode and stared hard at the six missed texts from an unknown number. The first few were relatively normal, asking if it was a good time to come over, asking to get coffee and maybe hit a movie. The third one was asking why they weren't getting a response. Oddly that was enough to make her laugh because it was simply a mistyped number, probably some guy texting a new girl he had met asking for a date.

Without bothering to read the last three messages she simply deleted them before walking from her room with the mobile in one hand and the wine still in the other. She sipped the wine as she walked. The phone rang again.

Figuring she was going to have to send a message in response letting the pour person know they had the wrong number, she looked at the screen and dropped her wine in surprise. On the screen was a picture of 221 B Baker Street with text below it that simply read, "don't drink too much". The number was the same as the previous ones.

With shaky hands she archived the message and dialed Lestrade before dialing anyone else. The call rang through after a couple of minutes. "Lestrade," she heard his greeting.

"I need you to run a number for me, see if you can find out who it belongs to and where it is right now."

"Amber is that you?"

"Yes, it's me. Please can you just have someone run the number?" She bit at her bottom lip, nearly sinking her teeth into the tender flesh. She could almost taste a tang of blood when she ran her tongue over the bite mark.

She heard Lestrade sigh on the other end, the chair squeaking as he shifted. "Is this your stalker? Is he calling you now?"

Shaking her head she bit her lip again when she felt her mobile buzz to let her know she was receiving a text. "No, not calling. He's texting and he's got to be close by."

"Amber," Lestrade's voice became serious. "I'm sending someone over. Lock your doors, turn off the lights, and stay away from the windows. Call Sherlock and John if they aren't home, warn Mrs. Hudson as well."

It truly sank in that something was happening, something so much more personal than any of the other contacts this stalker had made with her. She felt her hands begin to shake just as she watched Nix come down the hall to start to lick up the spilled wine. She shooed the cat away with her foot earning a hiss for her efforts to keep the animal from killing itself with alcohol.

"Lestrade, I'm scared," she admitted though she would have liked to admit it to Sherlock or Megan. This was a co-worker, sometimes a man who acted as her boss. To show weakness to someone she worked closely with was to show her flaws. But she trusted Lestrade with her life, she had to now.

"I know. Give me the number." She read the number off and he read it back to her. "I'm going to hang up now. Call Sherlock," he was gone after that.

Not bothering to look at the text she hit Sherlock's number. She paced up and down the hall for a second as it rang before darting to the living room to check her locks and then the windows. She sighed when she saw it was all locked up tightly before flicking off the lights in the flat. She quickly moved into the kitchen where she grabbed a towel and soda water from the fridge.

"Amber I am busy," Sherlock's bored voice met her ear.

"Sherlock," her voice was nearly trembling as she attempted to start to clean up the spilled wine. It was going to leave a stain, there was no doubt about it, but she knew that Mrs. Hudson would forgive her just this once. "I—I," she barely whispered but found that she couldn't say anything. She doubted he had heard her just then.

"Amber?" He inquired, his voice no longer bored. If she was correct she sensed a hint of surprise and worry in his voice. She heard a single knock on the door and screamed, the phone crashing to the floor.

000000000000000

"Ms K—" John started to say just as Sherlock's mobile began blaring a rather modern song. He knew it was the ring tone Amber had set for herself in the taller man's phone, set it to that just to annoy everyone, particularly Sherlock himself. Yet Sherlock hadn't changed it in the past month since it had been set. John chalked it up to his friends emotions concerning the redheaded woman living in the flat beneath theirs.

Not surprisingly Sherlock pulled the phone out of his pocket answering it in front of both John and their current client. It was rude and a very Sherlock thing to do. "Amber I am busy," he simply stated. After several moments his expression went from annoyed to concerned, his blue eyes softening slightly at whatever he heard in the tone of Amber's voice. "Amber?" he inquired before roughly hanging up and showing it back into his coat pocket.

Turning on his heels the consulting detective walked out of their consultation leaving both the woman and John utterly confused as to what was going on. While Sherlock was known to just randomly walk away at odd moments, he was never so forwardly rude, as in walking away in the middle of a conversation without rudely ending it first.

With an apology on his lips John promised they would call the woman when everything was worked out, if she was still in need of their services. He jogged from the townhouse just on the heels of the other man.

"Sherlock!" John called after him. "Sherlock?" This time it was more of a question rather than an exclamation. "What's going on? Was that Amber you were talking to?" Sherlock still said nothing as they stood close to the street. "Is she alright? What happened?"

"I," Sherlock ground his teeth in frustration. "I don't know," he growled as he tried to hail a cab with little success. He did not want to take the tube back to Baker Street. They weren't even close to the proper Underground line to take them to Baker Street. It would take too long to return home by the tube, a cab was faster, if he could manage to find one that was.

"What do you mean you don't know?" John said as he too tried to catch the attention of a passing cab. While his efforts were not rewarded at first, a cab finally came to a halt before the duo after several more frustrating minutes on the cold pavement. "Sherlock what is going on?" John asked as they slid into the cab.

Sherlock rattled off their address promising a bonus in payment if he was quick about it before turning to face John. For the first time the doctor saw pure worry in Sherlock's eyes. Pure and utter worry and the frustration of being so far from their flat. "All she said was my name and then I heard a knock. She screamed before the line went dead." His eyes might have said one thing but his voice was dull as he spoke, a way to try to hide the unknown feelings building inside of him.

"Went dead like she lost signal or went dead like she dropped it or someone took it?" John asked as the cab rushed down the smaller side streets of London.

Several minutes passed without a response. "So which was it?" John prompted again.

"What?" Sherlock asked as if having not heard the question previously asked.

John fought the urge to sigh in exasperation. "Did the line go dead because of signal failure or because she dropped it?"

"More than likely it was her dropping the phone. If the line had simply gone dead her scream would have been cut off." He nearly snarled as he pulled his mobile out from his pocket staring at it as if it could give him the answers he was looking for.

John watched in shock at the visceral reaction his friend had to Amber being in danger, if she was in any kind of danger to begin with. Sherlock rarely reacted in such a manner if, and when, something happened to someone he knew. He got mad yes, occasionally throwing a man out a window repeatedly if it was called for, but John had never actually witnessed such a reaction first hand. It was new, surprising, and if he was honest, a little scary. However it was also refreshing to see. Sherlock cared for Amber, a fact John and everyone else knew, but this solidified the fact.

As if by magic Sherlock's phone rang. This time it was his normal ring tone, the one used for everyone.

"Lestra—" he began but was cut off before he could finish saying the DI's name. "Is she alright?" John heard him ask before his whole body actually relaxed. "Let her know I'll be at the flat in ten minutes." He hung up.

Sighing with relief, John allowed silence to fill the cab for a while before he finally asked, "Is she alright?"

"Perfectly. A little startled and scared according to Lestrade."

"What caused her to scream?"

Sherlock looked out the window of the cab, watching as the buildings rushed by. "An officer knocked on her door. In her panic she screamed, dropped her phone, and broke it." He almost sounded amused. Amber had been known to drop things when startled. Sherlock and John had learned this a couple of weeks ago when she had been poking around a beaker full of eyeballs from the fridge. Sherlock had walked in, cleared his throat, and then had to watch in horror as she squeaked dropping the glass container and it's contacts on their kitchen floor. Sherlock had been angry over his ruined experiment, John had been amused at his rantings, Mrs. Hudson had been disgusted about the eyes being in the fridge in the first place, and Amber had been so embarrassed she had fled to her flat to clean the wounds on her legs. The next incident had involved a coffee mug and petri dish. She was no longer allowed to pick up glass, or any breakable object really, until she became less prone to being startled. They both figured it would be a long while before than happened.

"Why were the police knocking at her door? Is there something going on?"

Sherlock nodded. "Her stalker has apparently been sending her texts."

"What do you mean?" His eyes widened in shock. That would give anyone a scare.

"Lestrade said he would give us the details as soon as we arrived back to Baker Street," Sherlock mumbled, a little annoyed with not knowing the exact details of the incident. John couldn't be sure if it was Sherlock's annoyance with not knowing because it was his case and needed to know or if it was because the incident had involved Amber. John was leaning towards it being about Amber though he knew the other man would never outwardly admit it.

John nodded and the two of them once more lapsed into silence, as most of their cab rides together did when they weren't actively working on a case. It was nearly five minutes later when the cab was stopping in front of 221B Baker Street, spilling them out onto the pavement. Sherlock paid the driver, tipped him a little extra for his efforts at making the ride a quick one. In Sherlock's mind the trip could have been a little faster but then again it was faster than taking the tube.

They didn't rush as fast as they could have to the front door knowing that Amber was safe in the flat with Lestrade and probably more than one officer. Sherlock was inside first stalking down the hall and through the door leading down to Amber's flat. The door was ajar and he pushed his way through only to be stopped by two large officers he had never seen before. Both were in uniform.

"Let him through. He's my boyfriend," Amber's voice was strong, a little ragged around the edges with her Scottish coming out a little more than normal. When the officers didn't move he watched as she moved them herself. "Seriously you two, move," she gave them no room to argue as the two men moved out the way allowing her to nearly launch herself at Sherlock.

His arms came around her tightly as she buried her head in his chest heaving a sigh of relief. He felt like he was coming home, a surprising feeling whenever he touched her. He was happy to have her in his arms and he knew that she was thankful to be there as well. He felt a little bad that he hadn't been there when she really needed him. She was strong, that he knew, but sometimes she just needed someone to lean on. Sherlock was often that person she leaned on now. He enjoyed that, never having had someone who truly needed him. John was his friend and needed him yes, but not in the same manner than Amber did.

"Are you alright?" He asked as he rubbed her back gently. He had become a little more touchy with her over the past few weeks. They had only been dating for a little over three months now, but three months was enough time to bring them close enough that physical contact was a norm between them. He was finally comfortable with her to the point where he often would simply touch her knee or her arm, brush her hair off her face, even, as long as they were with friends, drop little kisses on her cheek or palm or sometimes her lips.

He felt her nod against his chest. "I'm fine. Lestrade is outside taking a look around the building."

"Why?" He asked carefully as he removed her from his arms to walk her towards the couch where he sat her down. He himself sat on the coffee table, glaring at the two men who hadn't stopped staring at them since they hugged.

Amber grabbed his hands, sensing his annoyance with the two officers just standing there. She gave them half a smile before saying, "There is a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen, feel free to help yourself. Mugs are on the drain board." It was a subtle hint for them to leave and much to her relief they took the hint and slowly disappeared into the kitchen.

She allowed her shoulders to slump as Sherlock took her smaller hands into his giving them a light squeeze to get her attention. When she blinked up at him he noted that her eyes were glossy. "I was so scared Sherlock. He was right outside taking pictures of the building."

"He sent you texts of the building," he stated having figured something like that must have happened to have her worked into such a frenzy. "They were recent, from today."

She nodded. "Taken moments before they were sent from the looks of it. It was only one picture but he knew I was drinking wine. How could he have known I was having a glass of wine. Not even you could have known that." He could tell she was trying very hard not to cry or scream. For the last month it had seemed as if the stalker was leaving her alone, as if he might have found someone else to terrorize in such an annoying fashion. Now it seemed as if the man had only given them a break for the holidays.

"I'm so sorry Sherlock, I dropped the phone. The screen shattered when it hit the ground and there was no way to save it or the picture and texts," she rambled after a few moments of silence, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Where's John?"

"I believe he got side tracked by Lestrade outside."

"I'm sorry I called you away from your case," she murmured, truly meaning it. Half the time when she called him while he was on a case her apologizes for interrupting were halfhearted, as if she didn't really care if she was interrupting or not.

Sherlock blew off her statement, using his thumb now to wipe the tear from her cheek. He didn't like seeing her like this. Usually when he saw someone crying he assumed they were weak, someone who couldn't deal with what was going on in their lives. Yet he knew Amber, he knew she didn't cry out of weakness, she was crying because she _felt_ weak, powerless because there was a man out there who held power of her. She wasn't crying because she _couldn't_ fight, she was crying because she didn't know how to fight and that scared her. Having been through the life she had lived, he was surprised she had been strong enough to fight to the point where she was today. A lesser woman would have ended it years ago.

"It was a boring case. Another husband cheating on his wife, the wife needed evidence that the other woman was stealing from their home. Open and shut, John could have solved it with his eyes closed." That was the god's honest truth. John could have solved the case if only he just looked around. The things the wife had said were stolen were things a woman would take. Fancy wine glasses not worth more than a couple pounds, costume jewelry meant to dazzle but not worth much, candles that probably would have sold for fifty pence each. They were little things that someone might not notice going missing, unless you were the wife of the man you were stealing from.

Amber gave a watery laugh as she slipped a hand from Sherlock's to lay over the one on her face. She gave him a light pat before wiping at her other cheek. "I'm a mess, the carpet is ruined and my cat is currently hiding in the couch," she chuckled more to herself. "This day off has been amazing hasn't it?"

He smirked at that. "You weren't called into work though." It was a running joke between them. Every day off she had usually lead to her being phoned into a crime scene. At one point she had simply hung up on Lestrade and never left the flat and the comfort of her couch. But nine times out of ten she rushed off to work, taking a partial day off the following day. He didn't understand her drive to go and photograph crime scenes when she wasn't the one solving them. He had even asked her why she hadn't become a detective. She was good, almost as good as him and scores better than Lestrade. It was clear she would do well in that field of work but still she stuck to lab work and a camera. She hadn't said why she didn't want to be a detective, just that she didn't want to be one.

"Nope, I called work to me," she weakly chuckled before sobering. "Thank you for coming when I called, even if you didn't have to."

"You're welcome," he stated seeing that there really was nothing else to say to that.

They sat there like that for quite a while, the two officers in the kitchen making idle chitchat until Lestrade and John came through the front door. John smiled at his friends sitting across from one another, hands intertwined. He doubted Sherlock even realized he was rubbing small circles on the back of the redhead's hand nor did he believe Amber knew she was leaning slightly forward into the man in front of her.

"We couldn't find anything outside. Not a trace of the man who sent the text. I have techs tracing the number but—"

"It was more than likely an untraceable number, ditched across town in a bin somewhere. A homeless man has found it by now," Amber bit out with some resentment towards the police for not being much of a help at this point. All they had were some pictures, her father's old gold watch, a lock of her sister's hair, some cryptic notes, and a dead mobile with texts from the stalker. They were getting no closer to finding her sister or this bastard who haunted her life.

Sherlock nodded in agreement, Amber having taken the words right out of his mouth. "You should have a patrol around this area, particularly Baker Street and this building."

"Already requested and granted," Amber grinned now at Sherlock. She was still in a minor bit of shock but she was coming out of it, no longer on the edge of crying again. She was detaching herself from this case, even if the center of it was herself. She was talking as if it were someone else. Sherlock wasn't so sure that was healthy for her.

"Good," John finally said. "Amber should move up into one of the upper rooms until this is all over," he suggested.

Amber shook her head almost violently. "No. I'm not leaving my flat. I am not giving into this bastard. We've already been over this when he broke in."

"Then you need to have someone stay here with you," Lestrade countered already knowing who to suggest.

Sherlock blinked. That was the perfect solution, granted it had its flaws. "I'll do it." He volunteered, he knew he could keep her safe if it came down to it. He watched Amber blink a couple of times. "She'll have to have someone escort her at work as well. I'm sure you, Lestrade, can find someone remotely capable of doing that."

"Don't you dare say Donovan," Amber hissed out. In the last few months Amber and Donovan's work relationship had taken a nose dive into the realm of them barely being able to stand one another at the office.

Lestrade tried not to chuckle. "I wasn't going to. I'll have an officer appointed to you tomorrow when you come in. Sherlock and John can escort you in the morning."

"When will this be over?" She asked to no one as she hung her head in shame. Not shame because she was ashamed of being stalked, but ashamed that she was putting such a burden on everyone she cared for.

"We'll catch this man Amber, I promise you. We'll get your sister back too."

"I hope so," she whispered softly so that only Sherlock could really hear her. Lestrade went about rounding up his men, ordering them to keep close to the building until the end of their shift at which point another team would be sent out.

Amber thanked all of them for their kindness and understanding at this point and offered the two officers anything if they needed it, be it a place to use the toilet or giving them a hot drink and meal. They had graciously accepted but promised they would try not to be a bother before saying their goodbyes and leaving. John went upstairs to called Megan in order to let her know what was going on. He planned on phoning Mrs. Hudson as well to warn her about the police presence around the building and that it was nothing to worry about for now.

Sherlock stayed with Amber as she started to clean the wine stain on the carpet in the hallway. He noted that she had already tried that but hadn't gotten the result she had originally wanted. Instead the originally dark red stain was now more of a large pink splotch spreading out at least twelve inches when the first stain had been at least half that.

After fifteen minutes of scrubbing he watched her throw the sponge across the hall where it left a wet print on the wall before hitting the floor with a squishing noise as she screamed, "Fuck!" She rubbed at her face, leaving some suds on her cheek. "This is never going to come out. Not even six months and I've already had a break-in resulting in replacing windows throughout the whole flat and now a stain on the carpet. It's going to have to be replaced." She groaned. "To top it all off the carpet is new to begin with!" She tugged at her hair in her anger.

Not knowing what to do Sherlock sort of just stood there as she continued on. "I might as well just give Mrs. Hudson my money because I foresee this pattern not ending any time soon. Maybe I should just move out, you know just leave. No one has to worry about me any more if I do that, everyone can have their time ba—" Her rant was cut off by Sherlock grabbing her rather harshly and pulling her into him.

His lips crashed down on hers, effectively shutting up her. That was a good thing because he had realized as she had started to rant about leaving he felt this urge to, well, hold onto her tightly and never let go. The thought of her leaving made him feel almost empty in a way. He couldn't imagine not coming home and hearing her talk, even if it was about her dull day. He didn't want to think about not seeing her smile or hearing her laugh or feeling her touch. He didn't understand why he was feeling like this. He understood the basic nature of attraction, he knew he was attracted to her, had known that for a while. He knew that he liked her and enjoyed spending time with her yet he wasn't quite sure why he felt like if she left life wouldn't be the same again.

"I'm not leaving Sherlock," Amber sighed as she broke the kiss. He leaned his forehead against hers as her hands cupped his face, his arms still wrapped tightly around her body holding her to him. "I promise not to leave Sherlock," she uttered again, this time like a pray sensing what he was feeling even if he didn't exactly know what it was. She kissed him softly this time. "I'm stressed and I tend to just speak Sherlock." She gave him one last kiss before pulling out of his arms.

"Now get me a towel so I can mop up the watery mess I made," she ordered shooing him off with a swat of her hand on his shoulder. He did exactly as he was told, coming back into the hall to find her sitting on the ground petting Nix and trying not to cry.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Review Please!**

**A/N: Oh and I will be closing the poll on my profile tomorrow night (24 hours from now) so please vote if you haven't! Oh and I'm just curious, though I'm sure that this is the wrong fandom to ask it in, would any of my readers be interested in a Criminal Minds story? I'm just curious to see how many of my current readers/new readers would like that.**


	25. Chapter 23

A_ little shorter than normal and probably a little more fluffy that I originally intended, but over all I hope you enjoy the chapter. The next few will have some major plot points. I would say that this story is around half way over, probably leaning more towards 3/4ths. I will be doing a sequel if you are wondering. Anyways enjoy the chapter._

**The Yoshinator: **Ah, yes the stalker is acting weird isn't he/she? Well there is a reason for that which you and everyone else will find out soon enough, probably two or three more chapters if I'm correct. Sherlock and Amber will more than likely be getting cozier in the coming chapters, as you will see in this one :)

**TheGirlWhoImagined: **Thank you and I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter! Yes I have jumped on the Criminal Minds bandwagon. I have a friend to thank for that. I will be working on a Reid/OC story FYI, but it will be awhile before I get around to posting it. I kinda want to follow with the show, near the beginning, which is a lot of work to add and OC. I'm hoping my summer break will allow me to work on that.

**Empress of Verace: **I'm happy that you think Sherlock and Amber make a great couple. I just hope everyone stays in character XD That's one of my biggest fears.

**bored411: **You will see who the stalker is soon, well maybe not soon but you'll be getting more hints in the coming chapters as things kind of escalate a bit.

**BuredSpy: **Oh if you didn't like how I left it off last chapter you are not going to be a fan of the ending of the next few chapters. I love cliffhangers lol. And yes my Criminal Minds story will be a love story, sort of. Well a rather long winded one spanning 8 seasons. So yeah, a VERY long and rocky love story :)

**Gwilwillith: **Thanks, I'm trying to evolve the relationship, especially since I kind of skipped like a month time frame in the story. I'm trying to progress everything at what would feel like a normal pace but it's really hard when dealing with Sherlock XD

**Loki'sdreamer: **I'm trying to make Amber believable rather than a perfect Mary Sue(please let me know if and when she does become one). She is strong, yes, but there is a limit to her strength and with Sherlock being there all the time it is only natural for her to need him. I'm glad you liked the ending :)

_Disclaimer: I own nothing but Amber, her pets, Megan, and the plot! _

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**[023]**

Quiet. It was deafeningly silent in the building. If she had dropped a pin on the kitchen's tiled flooring she was positive the resounding 'ping' could be heard throughout the premises. It was unnerving, the utter lack of noise in what was usually a very noisy building of flats.

It was this quietness that made Amber realize how much she actually liked the daily noises usually heard. It didn't matter if it was Mrs. Hudson plodding about in her kitchen above her or Sherlock and John slamming doors and stomping around. Sometimes it was Sherlock playing the violin, John cursing over something or another, sometimes it was even Megan coming and going leaving a little bit of a chaotic mess in her wake. There was always some kind of noise be it day or night in 221B Baker Street and she missed it so very much.

The lack of noise was caused by the unease of everyone in the building. No one wanted to draw attention to the building and those residing within in the off chance that Amber's stalker was still around watching and waiting. It didn't matter that their were officers right outside. Everyone was nervous.

As soon as Megan had gotten the news she had promptly informed her boss that there was an emergency and she had to leave. Mrs. Hudson had returned back to Baker Street right after gathering her groceries, and Sherlock hadn't left Amber alone since getting home.

Now it was nearing midnight and all was completely silent. She couldn't even hear the distinctive thud of her friends upstairs. It was like everyone was walking on pins and needles, scared almost or at least a little hesitant about what they did. They were all doing something quiet, nothing that would draw attention.

Now Amber found herself carrying her laptop into her bedroom, leaving Sherlock in the living room where he was enraptured in some talk show on the telly. She set the computer on the bed before making her way to the bathroom. Not overly worried about Sherlock in the other room, she decided it was the proper time to take a hot shower. The water, she knew, would wash some of the day away taking some of the stress with it. She just needed to relax, take the time she had thought she would have had that afternoon for herself.

After her shower, she brushed her teeth, pulled her wet and lengthening curls into a sloppy bun, and changed into her pajamas. Crawling into her bed, she snuggled into the warmth of her blankets, grabbed her computer, and plugged in her ear buds. She popped in a DVD of one of her favorite shows from the box set she kept on her nightstand for days like this, and surfed through the menu. Finding a particular episode she was fond of she pressed play and surrendered herself over to relaxation. It wasn't long before the stress of the day left her body leaving her more exhausted than she had ever been.

Sherlock found her two hours later half draped over a now closed laptop, Nix pulling the purple ear buds across the bed to be chewed on. He just couldn't help the exasperated smile that formed on his face as she looked at his sleeping girlfriend. She was going to damage her computer if he allowed her to continue sleeping on it as she was.

Nimbly he swiped the ear buds from the cat before she managed to ruin them. He earned a small growl for his efforts before Nix stalked her way to her owner where she promptly sat down beside Amber's head in a guardian type manner. It was rather adorable.

"Amber," he called carefully as he walked around the opposite side of the large king sized bed. He managed to reach across the mattress and slip the laptop out from under the sleeping woman. When she didn't even budge he realized she was completely out. He set the computer on the nightstand, stuffed the ear buds in the drawer, and left her alone to sleep off what he knew had been a very taxing day on her system. For how intelligent she was, she was a normal person.

He sat himself in front of the television once more, this time not paying much attention to what was on. He just sat there, his hands steepled in front of his mouth as usual while trying to figure out how to help Amber out of this situation. Since he had met her he had been trying to pinpoint exactly why she was being targeted. There had been very few results and none of them had been promising.

He had started with her family, trying to find some kind of connection to her past that would lead to this kind of present. He had talked with her aunt a couple of weeks back on the phone after learning that she couldn't make it down to London. He hadn't learned anything from the woman other than what he had learned from Amber herself and his own investigating. Apparently her parents had been very quiet people, especially about their work, her father in particular with him being a lawyer. Try as he might he couldn't piece things together. It was frustrating, needing to solve the case but coming up cold every time. He wasn't used to it, not solving things in a fast manner. It didn't help that he was emotionally involved in the case itself, dating the victim. He never became emotionally involved, emotions often caused complications. He could name one case in which his emotions had caused issues. That case was that of Irene Adler. He cared not to dwell on that woman and the mistakes he had made in some vain attempt to help her and possibly impress her. He had saved her and that was enough. She was out of his life.

Amber wasn't like Irene. She wasn't trying to manipulate him or use him for her own personal gain. She just wanted to be with him because he was himself. It was odd, having a woman want to spend time with him without wanting something. He believed that was why he liked her so much. She didn't _want_ anything from him, she just wanted him.

Five minutes later, more like three hours in reality, he heard movement from the bedroom. "Sherlock?" Amber's sleepy voice drifted out to him. He caught the sound of her feet padding along the carpet, shuffling in her half slumberous state.

"Living room," he called out and was greeted by her rumpled figure coming down the hall.

"Hi," she smiled. "Have you gotten any sleep?" she asked, always more concerned for him than about herself. She gently lowered herself onto the couch beside Sherlock, laying her head on his shoulder in a familiar and intimate gesture.

He dropped a kiss onto the side of her head before shaking his own in response. "How long was I out?" She gave a yawn, using her fist to vainly cover her mouth.

"I believe you fell asleep after twelve thirty," he responded softly, as if she were still sleeping.

"Lovely, a little over three hours of sleep."

"You should go rest."

"Not quite that tired anymore," and to prove her point wrong she yawned again. "Maybe a little but if I'm honest I don't want to go to bed. I'm..." she stopped herself, screwing her face up in disgust at what she was about to stay. "I'm scared he's still out there. Logically I know he isn't at the moment. The officers would have caught him sneaking around. Yet at the same time I have this feeling that he is watching me from outside." When she shuddered, Sherlock instinctively reached out to comfort her by placing his arm around her shoulders pulling her into his body.

Over the last month he had learned to follow those annoying little gut instincts that told him how to react around Amber. It had taken him quite awhile to admit to himself that he enjoyed reacting in such a manner but once he had accepted that he **was** feeling what a normal male would feel around a woman he was dating he found himself open to following through with those feelings. Like now, holding her. A little over a month ago it would have taken Amber asking to be held to get him to hold her. Now he did it on his own. They had made great progress in their relationship.

There were still things he didn't feel comfortable with, like holding her when their friends were around, or holding her hand in public for longer than a few moments. They hadn't made much progress in their physical relationship beyond the point of kissing either. It wasn't that he didn't want to do anything with her. It was that he wasn't used to wanting to. He understood the chemical reactions involved in attraction. He understood the concept behind sexual encounters, he just hadn't experienced many of them in his life.

He wasn't the sort to actively pursue relationships, be them physical or romantic. Now he found himself faced with a romantic relationship that he did truly wish to turn physical sooner or later. He had no doubt it would be satisfying both mentally and physically. Again he knew the chemical reactions just never understood why so many people searched so hard for someone to satisfy the need for those reactions. To Sherlock, sex had always been a weakness, something that could be used against all parties involved. He supposed his hesitance in taking that next step with Amber was because he was fearful his relationship with her could get her hurt. After all his friendships had been placed in danger with Moriarty not so long ago.

"I lost you there for a second. You were thinking far to hard again. I can see it on your face." Her voice was light, playful even, as she put her hand against his cheek turning his face so that he was looking into her eyes. "What was it this time?"

"Nothing," he said, his voice not giving anything away.

He watched her brow raise. "I know you're lying Sherlock."

Not even bothering to ask, he knew that he had been caught. While he had few ticks, so to speak, Amber had figured them all out. He knew that it was because they spent so much time together. "It's nothing Amber."

"Whatever you say," she murmured before pressing her lips gently against his. "Why don't you fetch your violin and play me something. I've heard you composing upstairs for the last couple of weeks. Play me what you've got so far."

"Don't you think it is a little late to be making music?"

"Doesn't matter what time of day it is, making music is always appropriate," she had a coy grin on her face. Suddenly he knew they weren't so much talking about music as they were speaking metaphorically about sex. "But in this case I don't think anyone would mind you playing your violin. From down here you hear a lot but up there you don't hear much from down here."

"You'll have to come upstairs with me."

"I think I'll be fine for a couple of minutes Sherlock. There are two officers outside, both patrolling the building." She shoved at him. "Go on. I'll be right here when you get back." She smiled softly at him. "Unless you can think of something else to do in order to pass the time since neither of us want to sleep."

It was at that suggestion that he gritted his teeth as he found the same familiar tightening of his muscles at the warmth of his attraction to her curled through his body. From the slight flush of her cheeks and chest, he gathered she was thinking and feeling the same things he was. Tonight was not the night to act on such feelings. She was vulnerable, and while he might not have been a knight, he was raised to be a gentlemen even if he rarely acted as such.

"Violin it is," she chuckled watching his retreating form as she curled herself onto the couch thinking about what might have happened if he had let himself go just this once.

She had been trying for weeks to wiggle under that calm exterior he wore like a thick coat. She knew that there was heat under there. She could feel it in his kiss, in his touch. She could see it in his eyes and in the way he acted when around her. She knew it was only a matter of time before he gave into his urges. She would wait until he was ready because she was more than ready to give herself to him. Three months was long enough for her. Long enough to know he wouldn't hurt her if she slept with him. Some people would think she was moving to fast, some would think she was moving to slow. She knew all the random 'rules' of dating. Such as how the third date was when sex was expected. She and Sherlock were far past the third date, more towards the twentieth if she counted correctly. They tried to go out twice a week on official dates but a lot of their lunches and small little outings turned into dates before they even realized it. She was almost a hundred percent sure that they had been on more dates in their short relationship than most couples went on in their first six months together.

Amber just had to be patient with him. She wasn't skilled with men, having had one truly serious relationship that ended in marriage and, later, divorce. She doubted Sherlock had any real experience with serious relationships and judging by his strained relationship with his brother and family she knew that he hadn't been exposed to solid examples of relationships while growing up either. He'd get there, she would make sure of that.

"Megan is sleeping on my couch," Sherlock groaned as he walked back into her flat with his violin and bow in hand. He looked agitated, a common sight when Megan was involved.

With a soft chuckle, Amber stood up from her spot on the couch, stretched a little much to Sherlock's pleasure seeing as he eyed her from head to toe, and walked to stand in front of him. Standing on her tip toes she pecked his lips lightly. "She was probably restless, wandered down from John's room to make some tea and fell asleep on the couch. She's just as stressed as we are Sherlock. Leave the girl be." She kissed him lightly once more, this time lingering just a little with a small smirk on her face. "How about I put on the kettle while you play for me? A cuppa might do us both some good at this point."

When she got a swift nod she waltzed her way to the kitchen hearing Sherlock begin to softly play. She knew the music immediately, placing it as Beethoven's Romance in F. It flowed softly through her flat making her smile as she put water in the electric kettle to keep the noise level down. A violin was one thing, the sound of a screaming kettle was another.

She continued to listen to the music Sherlock was playing as she realized how much she missed playing the piano. She was skilled enough but lacked the space for a piano in such a small flat. She could always make the room by forgoing getting a grand or baby grand, instead getting an upright. She could move around her living room a bit, make the room for it if she wanted but she knew it would only gather dust. Between work and everything else in her life she knew it would get little use.

Not having noticed the lack of music she nearly dropped the electric kettle as Sherlock asked, "What are you thinking?"

"Getting a piano," she replied honestly.

"A piano? Where would you put it?" he wondered, laying down his piano on the table as he went to watch her make their tea. She made wonderful cups of tea, perfectly sweetened yet wonderfully strong. He hated to admit it, and would never in front of said person, but she made better tea than Mrs. Hudson. He doubted it had anything to do with her being better than their landlady because for the life of the redhead she couldn't make John or Megan a cup without them having to add some more milk and sugar or completely make a new cup.

She placed sugar in his cup while rolling her eyes and turned to gently thrust it into his hands. "There are different styles of piano Sherlock. There are grands and baby grands, uprights, and toys as well as keyboards. If I move some things around I could fit a rather nice sized upright in the living room. However," she said while clinking a spoon around in her cup. "I have far too much to do and so little time to do it. A piano would gather dust, as much as I would love to own one." She sighed in an almost wistful manner.

"How long has it been since you played?" he inquired, knowing already it had been quite a long time since she had laid hands on a musical instrument.

Her smile was soft and slightly sad, "Far to long."

"Can you play the violin?"

She cocked her head to the side, thinking for a moment. "I haven't played a violin since I was in secondary school, if I'm correct. I don't think I remember how to play."

He waved his hand towards his violin and bow, a silent offer for her to give it a go. She blinked several times in confusion and shock. No one, and she meant NO ONE, touched his violin. Not even Mrs. Hudson dared to touch it. "I don't think—I mean I really—Sherlock?" she questioned, still slightly stunned.

"Go on," he prompted, this time offering her the violin and bow in question.

"I can't. No one touches your violin and I don't think it would be proper of me," she blurted out resisting the urge to pet the violin he was holding out to her.

Sherlock smirked. _Observant, _he noted to himself. She was so very observant. "You can."

Amber closed her eyes, already knowing what he was doing. Get her mind off of what was really there, the stalker, her sister, the stress. Get her to think about and do something else and she'd be less stressed. As she grabbed the violin gently from his hand she took a deep breath, sitting her mug onto the table and taking a seat. She took up the bow trying to pull some sheet music out of her mind that could be translated to the violin. She found a particular song she was so fond of.

She smiled softly, closed her eyes, got a feel for the bow, and the violin in her hands. Eventually she started to play, the music slow at first in her hesitance but as the music flowed she realized that it was like riding a bike. You don't forget what you have learned, especially not her. While she had played the piano she had learned the violin, learned it right along with her cousin.

The song came to a close. She knew she hadn't been perfect, that she had hiccuped in a few places, but in the end she had played and it felt wonderful! To have an instrument in her hands again, it was lovely, relaxing, and it made her long even more for a piano.

"Good, could do with some practice, but rather lovely," he smiled at her when she handed him the violin back.

The compliment came as a rather welcome surprise . "Thank you," she blushed, grabbed her tea, and made her way out of the kitchen. Sherlock followed behind, tea in one hand, violin and bow in the other. She settled onto the couch, mug carefully cradled in her hands. In a matter of moments Sherlock was playing again, this time it was new, something she didn't recognize. It was whatever he was working on. Slow at parts, fast at others. Rather violent and romantic and full of emotions she doubted he could even put words to. She found herself smiling, her eyes closed, and her mind and heart racing as it usually did when he played.

A little more than a half an hour later, Amber was curled into Sherlock's side. His violin had been long ago been discarded on the table. Their tea was gone and she was finally starting to feel sleep licking at the corners of her consciousness like a drug, offering warmth and comfort. She yawned.

"You're tired," Sherlock stated.

"A little," she yawned again.

"Go to bed," he ordered causing her eyebrow to raise in such a cute manner that he rolled his eyes.

"Come with me?" She questioned, shocking herself and causing her to blush brightly. "I didn't mean it like that. I just thought that...well the bed is large enough for two and the couch isn't all that comfortable for anything longer than a nap." She felt herself blush deeper red after her rambling. "Please say something."

"I don't have anything to sleep in."

With a puff of air she found herself laughing hysterically into his shoulder. "Really of all the things to pick up on you say you don't have anything to sleep in? You can always run upstairs, grab some clothing. Might be a good idea seeing as Nix chews on anything cord like if it's new. I would hate to have her ruin her mouth on violin wires and then ruin a very good bow." She smirked at him.

"Fine," he huffed lightly, shoved himself off the couch, and grabbed his stuff. Fifteen minutes later he was back down in her flat dressed in his stripped flannel pants and a gray tee shirt. She had seen him several times dressed in his pajamas but usually he had his robe on. Tonight he did not and it caused a rather new reaction in her. It wasn't just sexual, it was more an emotional reaction. Like seeing someone for the first time outside of where you usually saw them. Like seeing your boss at the pub or seeing a professor at the grocery. She was seeing Sherlock for what felt like the first time. He wasn't in his suit, his feet were bare, and his hair seemed just a little messier than it usually was. She liked it.

She had no idea what to say, she just kind of stared at him for a moment before shaking her head. "I apologize in advance for Nix. She's a bit territorial when it comes to the bed."

"I have noticed. She was guarding you earlier."

"Yep, she does that." She walked towards the bedroom with Sherlock following closely behind. Turning on her heel she darted back to the living room as she remembered she had to add more hay to Rose's cage as well as refresh the water. "Make yourself comfortable, not on the left though. That's my side," she teased as she shooed him off when he started to follow her back to the living room.

Sherlock, for once, did as he was told, granted he was rather uncomfortable about it. He was perfectly fine sleeping on the couch. He had fallen asleep countless times on his couch upstairs in his boredom or from pure exhaustion after a case. He had fallen asleep several times on Amber's couch as well after days without sleep. Her couch wasn't perfect, wasn't as comfortable as his but it was perfect enough for a couple of nights or however long he needed to stay in her flat.

Looking at the bed, he realized he hadn't ever actually shared a bed with a woman in this kind of manner. He was still standing by the right side of the bed when Amber waltzed into the room, pulling her hair down to finger comb some of the knots out. "Something the matter?" she questioned with a slight amount of hesitance as she too glanced at the bed.

Thinking about sharing it, at least on Amber's part, was a big leap. That last man she had shared a bed with had been her husband and that had been years ago. The bed looked smaller with the prospect of sharing. "If this is going to be uncomfortable you can still take the couch."

He should have jumped at the choice of taking the couch, yet he found himself pulling back the blankets, which she had straightened up before wandering out earlier that night. He watched her crawl in and snuggle into her side before he slipped in beside her. There was a sea of mattress between them yet if he simply reached an arm out he could have pulled her snugly into his body. He could have held her as his body craved. Yet his mind told him no and that was the voice he followed. He rolled over so that his back was facing hers and tried to go to sleep.

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When morning finally did finally roll around, Amber woke to find herself wrapped securely in Sherlock's arms, her back to his front. It was the most pleasant way she had woken in quite some time and yet at the same time it was a little odd, knowing that man sleeping behind her was someone who usually didn't like close contact with other people. It would appear, at least to Amber, that he was more free in his sleep even if he didn't know it.

It made her smile, being in his arms. She felt safe, as if nothing of the outside world could hurt her in that moment. It caused a soft warm flutter to stir in her stomach as she laid there in the soft cocoon of his arms and, of course, the heavy blankets. She knew that feeling in her belly, knew it all too well and try as she might she couldn't fully push it away to the back of her mind. She didn't want to deal with it right now because to do that would mean facing a bit of reality she wasn't sure she was ready to face.

So for now she simply sighed, closed her eyes, and attempted to float back into that restful place right between sleep and wakefulness. As she managed to find that peaceful place Sherlock stirred behind her, pulling her slightly closer to his body, his arms tightening around her. It was in that moment that every muscle in her body tensed as she waited for his response to their position.

When he didn't release her, for she knew he was fully awake, she wanted to sigh in relief. It was nice to know that he enjoyed, at least she assumed he enjoyed it seeing as the state of his body behind her, waking up with her in his arms. "Good morning," she risked saying, hoping not to ruin the moment knowing that the day wasn't going to be easy for her.

"Good morning," Sherlock greeted, his arms loosening only slightly to allow her some room to move if she wanted.

It was awkward, waking up with someone for the first time even if sex hadn't been involved. It was a very intimate, and for the two of them it was completely new in their relationship. It was a moment like this that was the tipping point. If either of them did something to show they were truly uncomfortable it was possible their relationship could be derailed. That was why neither of them spoke for a moment nor did either of them move.

"This is nice," Amber's voice was so very soft, a whisper into the quiet room. She waited for his response.

It was then that Sherlock's phone rang.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Review please!**

**A/N: As you can see this chapter is fluffy and I really hope no one is OOC at this point. Also I hope everything in this chapter is believable. Let me know if there is anything wrong. **

**On a different note the story that won in the poll was...drum roll...A Study in Compassion. I'm looking forward to writing that one since it's not AU like this one is. It followed each series. I've got several ideas in mind and several scenes already written. I'm going to start working on it more when my class schedule levels out and my exams are over. Look for it to start being posted around the beginning to summer hopefully. **

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


	26. Chapter 24

_I was going to post this chapter tomorrow but I just felt that I'd be nice and post it today, especially since I spent such a long time away from this story. Plus it's my birthday and I have nothing better to do since it's Sunday and I have classes tomorrow morning. Nothing better than being 22 and not being able to go out because I have to get up and 7 in the morning. Anyways enough of my rambling. I hope you enjoy the chapter._

**KijoKuroi: **I never even realized I said it was her phone. It was supposed to say 'his phone' meaning Sherlock's. I've gone back and fixed it so thank you for asking that question! I'm glad you love the story!

**Eva Sirico: **Thank you so much. I am so happy to hear that I am keeping everyone in character. It has been rather hard to be truthful. Hehe, about the stalker, well there will be more hints coming in the next several chapters but I can safely say that Moriarty is not the stalker. I wholeheartedly believe that Moriarty is dead considering this is AU after season 2. It's a nice thought though!

**BrokenCalibre: **Sherlock all snuggly, I very much enjoy writing his softer side.

**Gwilwillith: **I have always been under the impression that Sherlock has a caring side and I really like being able to explore that aspect of his personality because it is so rarely shown in the show. We'll be seeing more of later in the story of course.

**Empress of Verace: **Yep, I'm going to be working on A Study in Compassion. I'm kind of glad that it won in the poll because it's not AU. I'm looking forward to manipulating the shows plot to work around an OC. I haven't done that in a while! Enjoy the chapter!

**CarminaxBuranax: **I believe I have already addressed you review in a PM so I will not go into detail. I just want to thank you again for your honestness and detail. I am SO happy that you enjoy the story and I really hope you continue to enjoy it as it is updated! Feel free to point out anything you find wrong or something that just doesn't fit!

**Loki'sdreamer: **You might still be waiting a bit for Sherlock to give into his 'urges', so I apologize. I won't state when that chapter might be though.

**The Yoshinator: **I hope this updated is quick enough and that you like it!

**bored411: **Yes phones do tend to ruin moments in real life and fiction. Enjoy the chapter!

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything besides the plot and Amber. If I owned Sherlock I think it would be a birthday wish come true!_

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**[024]**

After a rather quick shower and a breakfast of toast with water, Amber was ready to rush out of the flat. While she did rush from her flat, the place she landed was on Sherlock's couch tapping the tip of her booted foot in impatience. For once it was she who had beat Sherlock in getting ready, it was she who had to sit waiting until the other was dressed for the day. It felt nice and it felt very odd.

Upon the impromptu call that morning, Amber was running on adrenaline. There had been another victim in the skinning case, found in Chiswick in an abandon building. The body had been discovered a little under an hour ago by a homeless woman looking for a warm place to sleep off a night of booze bought with handouts from the more fortunate.

Lestrade currently had Donovan minding the woman while he was on his way out to the scene. She was being called in to photograph the scene along with another crime scene tech. The thing that had her heart racing was that fact that this scene wasn't as pristine as the others had been. There was blood, lots of it, which was to be expected as with the other scenes. But according to Lestrade, first responders had noticed footprints and blood drops leading towards the door. It was promising, a possible lead. They were getting closer and she found herself enjoying the fact that this man would soon be within the police's reach.

She loved the fact that she was a part of the team who would, in the end, bring this man in. She might just be a simple crime scene photographer but it was up to her to notice things that seemed out of place. Sure the detectives were supposed to be those people, the ones who took the credit for finding the missing pieces, but in reality it was often a tech like herself who found those pieces and put them together. She didn't want the glory or the credit, she was satisfied just knowing that she was putting someone very bad away and saving innocence people in the process.

"Are you going to sit there all day staring into space?" Sherlock quipped lightly. To anyone who did not know Sherlock Holmes, they would assume he was being rude. To the trained ears of Amber, she understood he was not so much being mean but simply asking a question. In a way she heard it as teasing, there being a hint of it in his tone as it was.

With a not so graceful roll of her eyes she pulled herself off the couch. Dressed in a simple pair of charcoal grey fitted trousers and a black button down blouse, she was dressed for what she knew was going to be a media frenzy. As soon as the news channels got their claws into the story she knew she would be shoving reporters out of the way just to get to the crime scene tape. Her hair was allowed to flow rampant around her face, her glasses currently the only thing keep the curls from falling into her eyes. She looked presentable but not overly dressy, just the look she was going for.

"I was thinking about it but that would be unproductive. I don't have the time to spend in my mind like you do," she taunted with a wink as she slipped into her usual peacoat, lacing her scarf around her neck. She walked by him, tapping his cheek as she did, having noticed he was a bit slack jawed at the rude manner in which she had replied. It wasn't often she was rude, even in a teasing manner.

She was already hailing a cab when he finally caught up. Together they slipped in, Sherlock giving the address as Amber put her identification badge around her neck.

She looked at him, her eyes meeting his. Murder. This was their element. They could leave behind their awkwardness and urges, their feelings and thoughts. She could leave behind her nerves and worries and fears.

Murder. It was the ultimate escape from the horrors of her own life.

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The scene was no less horrific than the other ones had been. The walls in one of the smaller rooms, as well as the floor and ceiling, had been lined with plastic wrap. Blood splatted everywhere with most of it pooled around the body which lay skinned in the middle of the room. This time more than just the skin had been removed. The cuts had gone deep enough to remove fat and expose the more external muscle groups.

It took everything not to lose what little was in her stomach as she walked through the scene. She had already caught several detectives and techs outside looking pale as if they too were about to expel the contents of their breakfast onto the street. She was almost positive some of them already had, including the first responders.

Careful of the blood, though she wore those little blue booties over her low heeled boots, she walked around the outskirts of the room allowing the older photographer, whom she was rarely on call with, take the up close pictures of the body. She could see it well enough in the small space as it was. "This is horrible," she whispered watching as Sherlock inspected the body along with the medical examiner.

"The worst out of them all," Anderson agreed with her. She nodded with a grim, thin lipped smile directed at him. It was in times like these, where cases were so brutal that she could safely put away her feelings for certain co-workers and work peacefully along side them. It would be days before Anderson was back to hating her.

"The victim is female," Sherlock called to Lestrade.

"How do you figure?"

"Even with her breasts missing, which is an escalation considering the fact that the first female victim had her breasts intact minus the skin that is, you can still tell by her body that she is female, besides the obvious," Amber spoke up before Sherlock could say anything motioning downward on her own body to show what she meant was the 'obvious' part of the anatomy signaling that the victim was a woman. "While it would appear the killer tried to mutilate the genitals, he or she didn't do that good of a job. Besides that there is the fact that the body is lithe in frame, widened hips, with a narrow waist."

"The widened hips shows that she has had at least one child birthed vaginally," Sherlock continued on where Amber had left off. "She is mid- to late thirties."

"And without any other evidence there is little we can go on as far as the victim goes." She finished knowing that Sherlock didn't like admitting he couldn't find anything. "I'm going to go out...there," she breathed lightly pointing in the direction of the other room.

Once more careful of the blood, though not stepping on it at all was impossible, she eased herself around the techs and officers milling about around the body. Just before exiting the room she took off the booties on her feet so as not to leave bloody footprints across the rest of the scene. She folded them into themselves so that they wouldn't make a mess as she searched out a bin. When she found nothing she grumbled in acceptance at having to stick them in her pocket for later disposal.

Going about the rest of her job, away from the scene in the other room, Amber cataloged the footprints, which were first marked with rulers before moving onto the line of blood drops leading to the door. Having studied forensics in general while in school she immediately sensed something off about the drops. She cocked her head as she squatted down for a closer look.

"Anderson!" she shouted lightly over the din of everyone else squawking. She was starting to get a headache as she tried to follow the multiple conversations at once. It was a habit of hers she was now regretting.

"What?" the man asked coming to kneel down beside the redhead.

"These drops," she pointed her gloved hand at the blood on the ground. "Do they look a little off to you?"

Anderson gave them a close look before shaking his head. "I don't see anything. What do you see?" he inquired with a little bit of condescension in his voice.

Amber blinked rapidly, trying to avoid calling him an asshat, before taking a deep breath and holding it. She let it out quietly and plastered on a smile. "The drops are too evenly spaced. If they were from the killer, meaning he was injured somehow throughout his process, the drops wouldn't be so even. They were be more sporadic would they not?"

"Yeah, what are you getting at?" His voice didn't sound as condescending this time. He sounded more amazed that Amber had been the one to notice it before he had. She wanted to smile, she was always one uping Anderson, not that it was a hard thing to do.

"This blood could be from the victim herself, dropped here by the killer to distract us. It could be from another victim or even the killer himself, again to distract us from something we haven't found yet." She said it in such a manner that told him anyone could have figured it out, even a trained monkey. She was glad, for once, that Sherlock wasn't in the room because he would have actually said what she was thinking.

"Lestrade!" he screamed getting more than just the DI's attention. Sherlock strode out behind the older detective.

Amber stood herself up leaving Anderson on the ground. When asked what was going on and what Anderson was screaming about, she told them what she had found before attempting to clear everyone out of the way so she could at least get a good photo for the case. With everything done by the book, she allowed Anderson to talk to Lestrade and Sherlock, though Sherlock did not seem happy with the tech speaking at all. She knew he would have much rather heard the new detail from an intelligent mind, especially since the discovery had come from Amber.

She slipped into the background, waiting around if anyone found something and needed her assistance. Keeping her eyes flicking between everyone, she watched as people came and went. She watched as Lestrade was called outside in the attempt to quell the media frenzy that had only just begun to form when Amber had arrived at the scene. She noticed when two new detectives finally ran from the building looking a little worse for wear. She also watched as Sherlock stalked out without so much as a glance in her direction.

Under normal circumstances, if Sherlock were a normal boyfriend, she would have felt offended in someway at him just leaving. But it was Sherlock and from time to time he got tunnel vision when working cases. She understood that type of tunnel vision though she had never experienced it first hand. She had known many people who happened to get very centered in their work. In her line of work she couldn't be that centered, she had to be ready if someone needed her, if something else was found.

So with a sigh she left the scene as well, taking her camera from around her neck as she exited onto the pavement outside. The sky was darker now with a light drizzle misting down around anyone silly enough to be milling about in the cold wetness. She knew that it would snow that night, if it didn't start sooner.

When she couldn't find Sherlock she made a beeline for the van. The crowd was still rather large but thankfully Lestrade had done a rather decent job at shooing away the media, at least the news crews. She could still see several journalists roaming around, trying to pick off the weaker officers and techs. She herself managed to ignore the goading of a man who looked about her age. She could still hear him talking as she hauled herself into the van and closed the door.

Inside she allowed herself to breath. She could still smell the tang of blood, taste the iron on her tongue. It was never something she could get used to, the fact that blood hung around long after leaving the room. The images were still in her head, the horror of that poor woman bared as naked as she ever could be, skin missing without so much as a fingerprint to identify her with. It was sad and a little disturbing because it could have been anyone in there. It could have been someone Amber knew. It could have been Amber herself.

Just thinking that it made her shiver. _What if it had been me? s_he thought to herself. _How would Sherlock react? What about my family? _She shook her head. She didn't want to think about that. She didn't want to think about what would have happened, how it would have affected everyone she loved and cared for. She was safe, well as safe as she could be while being taunted by a stalker hell bent on giving her a heart attack.

After taking a deep breath, Amber closed her eyes for a few seconds as she composed herself. Crime scenes got to her all the time, it was a natural part of her job. If she ever found a scene that didn't make her wonder how anyone could commit such a heinous crime it was than that she would have herself committed. If she ever allowed herself to not feel something for a victim she knew she would lose a little bit of herself, a part she didn't want to lose.

A knock on the window had her nearly screeching in surprise. She was thankful her camera was sitting on the seat beside her instead of in her lap. If it had been she would have been shelling out several grand to replace it. "What?" she snapped harshly as she rolled down the window to find the same journalist who had been harassing her earlier standing there.

"I was told to find the pretty redhead and give her this," he handed her a manila folder. She took it with a frown and watched him disappear back into the crowd.

Looking it over she was a little thankful to still be in her crime scene gloves. She opened the folder and tilted the folder to spill its contents into her hands. Out slipped several Polaroid pictures of her walking from the building not more than fifteen minutes ago.

With wide eyes she stuffed the photos back into the folder and darted from the van, her breathing now labored and a bit frantic. She looked around the crowd trying in vain to spot the man who had delivered the folder. She couldn't see him, didn't even remember in which direction he had gone. She felt so out of place and for a moment she didn't feel as if she were actually in her own body. It was like she was watching herself flit around behind the crime scene tape trying to find anyone who could be the one stalking her.

For five minutes she continued to look. With every step she became more frantic, erratic even as she walked nearly aimless now. It was then that she was stopped by an officer. "Miss Devons are you alright?" She barely even heard her name.

"Miss Devons?" The officer called again, this time a hand landing on her shoulder. She nearly jumped at the touch, scared for a second that whoever was touching her was the person she was looking for. The look on her face must have told the man something because he turned around and screamed, "Someone get Detective Inspector Lestrade! Now!"

She was lead by the man to one of the squad cars where she was sat in the passenger side seat in a hopes that sitting her down would calm her. The officer tried fruitlessly to pry the folder from her gloved hands. "Miss Devons, can you tell me what happened?"

"I—I," she stammered before shaking her head, feeling the familiar heavy sensation in her eyes telling that she was going to cry. She fought it best she could before lowering her head and silently sobbing. Her death grip on the folder lessened allowing the officer take it just as Lestrade was jogging to the car.

"What happened?" he demanded in a confused manner.

"Sir, she was frantically search the crowd with this folder in her hand. She seems to be in some kind of shock." The officer handed over the folder to his superior. "Should I call the medics?"

Lestrade shook his head, "No she'll be fine." He dismissed the officer before kneeling down in front of Amber. He still hadn't opened the folder. He didn't have to do so in order to knew what lay inside. "Amber I need you to tell me what happened."

Amber blinked and focused on Lestrade's voice. She took a breath. "I—I was in the van, trying not to think of the terrible things that happened in the building. I ha—had closed my eyes for a second and then...then there was someone knocking on the side window. It was a journalist and he said he was instructed to give the folder to 'the pretty redhead'," she quoted exactly.

"There is a photo inside this isn't there? A recent one?"

"_Photos,_" she specified roughly. "Recent, really recent Lestrade. Taken about twenty minutes ago when I left the building. He was out here in the crowd watching me. He could be anyone. The bastard could still be watching." She hissed as she wiped at her face. The gloves stuck to her face when they encountered tears causing her to savagely rip at the latex.

He shook his head. "I doubt he's still watching. He saw your frantic reaction and I believe that was what he wanted. He couldn't see your reactions to his past contacts and this was his chance to see the fear."

Amber shuddered violently. "I want to catch this bastard Lestrade."

"I know. Pictures of the crowd have been taken, including those of the media. When we get back to the station I want you to sit down and take a look at them. See if maybe you can spot the journalist who handed you the folder." She nodded. "I'll have an officer escort you to the station." He stood up and motioned for the same officer who had found her.

She didn't pay any attention to what was being said as she carefully folded herself in to the seat, feeling a little less helpful than she had at the start of the day. She felt violated and uncomfortable and oh so vulnerable. She wanted to curl into a ball, to hide under the blankets and will the events of the day away. She wanted to sleep because maybe this was all a dream and when she woke up she would still be in Sherlock's arms, safe and sound and loved.

"Sherlock?" she questioned suddenly getting Lestrade's attention. "Where did Sherlock go?"

"I have no idea. Call him."

She nodded as she dug her mobile, courtesy of Megan after learning her old one had been damaged, and called her singled minded boyfriend. When he didn't pick up she left a short message before ending it to send him a text. Of course it was the text that got his attention.

**Are you alright? -SH**

**Fine, shaken but other wise fine. -AD**

**Where are you now? -SH**

**On my way to the Yard. Don't worry about me. -AD**

**I'll be there shortly. -SH**

**Sherlock. -AD**

Her last text was more of a plea for him not to meet her there but she knew it was pointless to tell him not to do something, especially after his mind was set on it. A little part of her, okay a large part, was happy he was going to be there at the Yard. It was moments like this where she really did need him. He was a steady rock who wouldn't get overly emotional or angry. Megan would explode and John would worry over her. Mrs. Hudson would probably start crying and Amber's own family would have formed a manhunt by this point. There were reasons she didn't share much of her personal life with her cousins, aunt and uncle.

Sherlock didn't text her back though she checked her phone almost constantly through the entirely silent ride to Scotland Yard. It wasn't the most comfortable ride considering she wanted to cry half the time. She missed the days where she was stronger, when a stalker wouldn't have made her cry but would have made her rage against what was happening. She wanted this over with. She wanted that normal life again, where she went to work and came home to her boyfriend. She didn't want to have to look over her shoulder constantly and be followed by someone for safety reasons.

She put her head on the window and allowed a tear to slip down her cheek as the city passed her by.

000000000000000

It was mid-afternoon as she was slipping into her therapist's office. Doctor Latimer had been expecting her since Lestrade had called to make a mandatory appointment. Much to Amber's distaste the good doctor had an opening and shoved her in. She didn't have to show up. Lestrade didn't haven't the authority to make her visit a therapist. It was those above his head who could force her to do so. They hadn't done so yet she still found herself walking into the office.

"How are you today?" Latimer asked in a careful tone as Amber sat herself gracefully in a chair, one leg crossed over the other. She had gone through the motions of the day in a haze, looking at photos of media workers and random strangers alike from outside the crime scene. Nothing had panned out and the more she had allowed herself to think about it she was beginning to believe that the journalist might be her stalker. It was absurd to think that but it was the only rational thing her brain could come up with.

But now her haze was gone. She was no longer as scared, having hid the fear hours ago. She was no longer worried. She had moved onto pissed off and annoyed. This was starting to have some affects on her life and she wanted them to stop. "I am assured that you have been informed about the incident from this morning."

"Yes," the doctor nodded thoughtfully. "Care to speak about it?"

"What would I have to say? I'm being stalked by a man who is getting increasingly bold and annoying at the same time."

"How about your reaction after getting the photos."

Amber felt her eyes widen before she blinked rapidly in annoyance. "I reacted how anyone would react to realizing their stalker was somewhere close by while they were working. I tried to find the bastard."

"DI Lestrade informed me that an officer found you frantically rushing around. He said you were quite unresponsive, as if in shock."

She wanted to growl. Anger was good, at least for her it was good. It was better than wanting to curl into a ball and cry. "Like I said, I reacted as anyone would."

"A normal person would have contacted the police."

Amber laughed at the absurdity of that statement. She laughed for a solid two minutes before she calmed down enough to respond. "Do you realize what you just said? Contacted the police? I was surrounded by at least twenty police officers, be them officers or detectives. What would you have had me do? Shout until my lungs exploded?"

"You're angry. That's understandable," Latimer nodded as she wrote something down.

"Bloody right I'm angry. I have this..this...this bastard invading my personal life and now he's bleeding into my work life. He has broken into my flat, found my number, and stalked me all across the city. I have a right to be as angry as I please," she huffed, feeling a little more calm having been able to vent a little.

She hadn't been able to actually get everything off her chest since she had been whisked away from the scene that morning. She had sat down to write a formal statement, something she hated doing but understood nonetheless. She had looked at all the pictures of the crowds and finally she had settled in to do her own job. Of course Lestrade, and half the department, had tried to steer her away from her work claiming she had a legitimate reason to take off. Amber had simply shook her head, ignored everyone, and did what she usually did: she dove head first into her computer and paperwork.

Latimer sighed. "Amber have you taken a moment to yourself to think about everything? To, you know," the doctor looked for the right words. "To let everything sink in. You've been through quite a lot since our first session in November."

With a shake of her head she tried not to ball her hands into a fists. She didn't want to let everything sink in. If she let that happen than that would make everything more real than it already was. "Trust me doctor when I say this has sank in more than I care to think about. I don't want to let it sink in more."

"The only—"

Amber held up her hand to stop the doctor. "I know this bit. The only way for me to fully accept what is going on is to, for lack of a better word, embrace the situation. I do not want to embrace this situation. I want to throttle it and beat it and put it out of my mind for the rest of my life. But I can't. I have to go to work and deal with this because it is the only way I can get through the day. So please don't even try with me. I've been through this before and it doesn't help."

With that Amber did as she had the first time upon meeting with Doctor Latimer. She stood up, grabbed her coat and her bag before glancing at the woman behind the desk. "I don't care what you tell Lestrade, be it good or bad, but I am not going to get put on leave because of this bastard. I have a job to do and I damn well will see to it that I do it to the best of my ability." She stormed out without so much as a second glance.

Doctor Latimer picked up the phone once Amber was gone. She dialed Lestrade's number. "Hello DI Lestrade. This is Doctor Latimer. You wanted me to call you as soon as Amber's session was over."

"It hasn't even been an hour, more like half an hour," the DI responded, surprised.

The doctor gave a light laugh. "Well yes I suppose that is true. Amber stormed out once more but she's dealing with this properly in my opinion. She's quite angry and while I usually try to keep my patients from holding onto that anger I do believe that Amber is the sort who needs to be fueled it. She's not aggressively angry which is a good thing but she is on a thin rope so to speak."

Lestrade sighed. "In your opinion would it be wise for me to put her on leave?" That was the only question he had.

"In my honest opinion I don't think that would be very wise. If you push her off the job now I believe she will only find another way to pursue her stalker and find her sister. As long as she has her work here at the Yard she is under some kind of supervision and she has more to do than just sit around and think. Keep her in the loop on her own case but do not allow her to work it."

"What should I do about Sherlock. He's going to drag her into this."

"If he truly cares for her he will try to keep her out of the more dangerous aspects of the case. You can't keep her completely in the dark. This is her life we are talking about."

He sighed once more on his end, rubbing his brow just as he heard Amber's voice coming in his direction. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." With that they hung up. Latimer went about gathering her files on her other clients while Lestrade listed to Amber rant and vent in his office, thankful that she wasn't the overly violent sort.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Reviews are welcome!**

**A/N: So did you like the chapter? I really hope you did. I'm still in the process of trying to get back onto a regular updating schedule of once a week, hopefully on Sundays. It may fluctuate since the end of the semester is coming up and I have finals to worry about. **

**An update on A Study in Compassion(ASIC as it will be referred to as): I have started to work on the story though it will still be awhile before I start to post that. I want to be well ahead in chapters than I am in this story. I usually write one chapter ahead before I post a new update but with ASIC I am hoping to be at least ten or more ahead in order to update frequently. I am also following the show for that story so it will of course take longer than usual. **

**Also I AM in the process of writing a Criminal Minds story and though this is probably the wrong fandom to ask, I was hoping someone might know where, and if, I can get my hands on transcripts of the show. I mean I am more than willing to do rough transcripts for myself but do you realize how long that would take? I mean I'm happy to rewatch episodes but I'd have to rewatch them at least twice: once to get the dialogue and a second time to actually write chapters. So if any of you can help I will be very grateful! Oh and any suggestions for a better title for the Criminal Minds fic will be much appreciated! The rough summary is on my profile near the bottom!**

**That is all for now! See you at the next update!**


	27. Chapter 25

_Hello my readers. Welcome to the next update of this lovely little story. I have seemed to found an update schedule that works for me and I've managed to write ahead just a bit so updates will now be as regular as they have been the last few weeks! Anyways I don't have much to say tonight besides enjoy the chapter and review please!_

**Gwilwillith: **Thank you! Yes cheeky Amber is very entertaining, you'll be seeing a lot of her before the end of this story and she'll feature prominently in the sequel! I'm glad you're enjoying the case so far and I hope you continue to!

**KijoKuroi:** Hope this chapter is up to par with the others. Enjoy!

**CarminaxBuranax: **Thank you so much! I am so happy to hear what you have to say. It makes me smile and makes me realize that this story is doing okay. I try not to keep the story so focused on just the OC, I mean it's not a story about Amber, it's a story about Sherlock, Amber, and everyone else and the situation they seemed to have found themselves in. I hope this chapter meets your expectations and I'm looking forward to hearing from you once again!

**The Yoshinator: **Yep, her stalker is creepy and it'll probably get freakier as the story progresses. Hope the update was quick enough. I'll be updating at a regular pace, every Sunday evening!

**Empress of Verace: **First off thanks! Next, yes Anderson was kind of bearable in the last chapter. I don't think Anderson is such a bad character, even though he hates Sherlock. I have to believe he's not always such an ass. That's not to say he's going to stay bearable.

**Loki'sdreamer: **Thank you! I love adding the therapist parts, even if I have Amber kind of fighting therapy at the moment.

**bored411: **Hm, was the journalist the stalker or wasn't he? All in good time my friend all in good time. Enjoy the chapter.

_Disclaimer: I **DO NOT OWN** Sherlock. I wish I did, however. I do own Amber, Megan, the plot, and anything you do not recognize for the show itself!_

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**[025]**

Sherlock had called John to gather Amber from the station when it was time for her to head home that night. He had thought that it would be better for her to have a familiar face she wouldn't mind seeing bring her home instead of some nameless officer she barely knew. However, she had protested rather loudly that she didn't need 'another damned escort', be it John or anyone else, before promptly storming out of her office leaving a very annoyed, and confused, Sherlock in her wake.

He hadn't failed to notice her sharp mood change, the way she lashed out or ignored everyone around her as well as her lapses into silence and sadness. He understood, on some level, what she was going through. It was still fresh in his memory, his time spent dealing with Moriarty that was. He could still remember the feeling of almost complete helplessness when he had been backed into a corner, forced to make the impossible choice of his life or that of those he cared for. He had found a way out of both choices with the help of others around him.

While Amber wasn't in the exact same situation as he had been, her aggressor was hidden and her life wasn't quite yet on the line, he knew that she was feeling caged right about now. She was being backed into a corner without any route of escape and all she could do was lash out the best she could in order to protect herself. Sadly she was lashing out at those who were trying only to help her.

He supposed her being angry was better than her hiding away from the situation. It showed she was willing to fight instead of just bowing under and giving in. It made him smirk. She was so strong, so much stronger than even he had been. She wouldn't run away to solve this problem. She was going to face it head on. Scottish stubbornness and pride, he figured.

"You'll be sleeping on the couch no doubt," Lestrade said coming to stand beside the taller man after Amber had finally cleared out. He had been on the receiving end of the redhead's anger earlier that afternoon. He knew now that her words could act like whips with no hope of avoiding them. He'd rather take a bullet than face an angry Amber again. He never cared to see her than upset and that angry ever again.

"I won't be sleeping tonight," Sherlock stated as if it were the most normal comment in the world. He turned to the DI then, "Have you found anything?" Even asking left a sour taste in his mouth as it usually did. He was the one who found things out before the police even thought about it. He was the one who solved the crimes. Yet he found himself having to ask for help, help from the people he usually teased and taunted because of their inability to solve crimes. He didn't like being this...useless in helping Amber.

Lestrade shook his head slightly. "Her past is as clean as a newborn. She's never even had a traffic violation, not that she drove for very long for that matter. Her late husband had a bit of a record before, during, and after his military detail. Nothing more than drunken bar brawls and a minor battery charge when he was nineteen. An ex-girlfriend, while drunk, beat on him and he reacted how anyone would when being hit. He slapped her hands away, she filed charges and refused to drop them even after she was sober. She even admitted to him having hit in her in self-defense but that didn't seem to matter," he said all from memory having read the files numerous times in the hopes that something might have been hidden. "Both her sisters were clear. Brianna, the one still living, had a few traffic violations including running a red light and an expired meter ticket. Kelly had a public intoxication charge but nothing else. Her brother had a few complaints of noise violations where he lived but nothing stuck. Her parents were clean as far as I can find. I've still got people looking but nothing is turning up right now. Have you asked her about people in her life, anyone who might have stuck out?"

Sherlock shook his head briskly. "She's not overly social, Megan being the shining exception."

"I've run Megan as well. Nothing but some drunk and disorderly charges when she was eighteen and nineteen before she got her act together with the help of Amber no doubt. How about anyone she might have met at one of those galas she attends? She could have upset someone with some money and power and this is their sadistic way of taking it out on her."

_So this is what it is like to bounce ideas off of another person, _Sherlock thought to himself. It wasn't all that unpleasant and it helped his mind try to make connections to anything Amber might have said or done in their short time since meeting. That didn't mean he had to like it. "I can ask."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, not right yet anyway. She's mighty pissed at everyone."

"She went to her therapist again did she not?"

"Yes, this afternoon," Lestrade confirmed.

"What did she say?" he inquired knowing that it was technically against the rules for him to do so.

The older man sighed, running his hand over his face knowing that he was going to answer because Sherlock had a right to know. "She's angry and dealing quite well according to Doctor Latimer. She says she should be allowed to continue to work in order keep her occupied and her mind busy. Without work the doctor believes that if she were given to much free time she would search out the man stalking her. I would advise keeping an eye on her the best you can without making it obvious that you're watching her. She's walking a thin line Sherlock. These last few months have been stressful for her and we don't need her to break."

"She's not as fragile as you think."

"And she's not as strong as you want to believe Sherlock. She's not you. She can't jump off a building faking her own death and come back unaffected. She's on a ledge Sherlock, speaking metaphorically, and if she jumps she won't make it out and be the same person as before. She needs a support system and as much as I regret to tell you, you are part of that system. You are dating her and she leans on you more than you probably realize. Let her lean on you, don't push her away, don't get angry when there are moments she can't control her feelings, and don't, for one second, make her feel like she is inferior to you." It was the father in Lestrade that spoke now. He had a daughter, granted the girl wasn't Amber's age and wasn't going through the things the older woman was going through, but he had come to see Amber as a daughter in some respects and a friend in others. Somewhere in the time since she had transferred to Scotland Yard she had become more than just a co-worker just like Sherlock had become a friend at some point.

Sherlock found himself speechless for the first time with Lestrade. He had never thought of the situation concerning Amber in such a way. He saw her strength and he saw her weakness but he had only noticed that her strength outweighed her weakness. Was he really that oblivious to how close Amber was to falling off this metaphorical ledge she now stood on? How could he not have noticed it with how much time he spent with her?

"Sometimes Sherlock, intelligence doesn't always equate to being smart and in this case you have been rather stupid."

On a normal day Sherlock would have retorted but in the deepest part of his heart he knew the DI was correct. So when he only nodded in response, Lestrade was now rendered speechless. "I'll keep an eye on her."

Sherlock left Lestrade staring after him in the wake of this new development in the consulting detective's personality. Maybe, just maybe, Amber was the best thing to happen to Sherlock. Lestrade chuckled as he headed back into his office to finish his paperwork for the day.

000000000000000

Amber was livid as she stood outside, her hands in her coat, and her hair slowly becoming covered in a thin layer of snow. It had started snowing a little over an hour ago just as she had predicted it would earlier that day. Normally she would have enjoyed the snow fall, but today was not a normal day and the snow just made her angry. If it weren't for the snow she would have walked part of the way home before hailing a cab, escort be damned. She probably still could have walked, the snow never bothered her nor the cold. Yet she stood there, knowing someone in the building lobby was keeping an eye on her, as she waited for John to arrive in a cab.

She noticed a sleek black car, a car she recognized, pull up to the curb. When no one exited the town car, Amber wandered her way over in the snow watching as one of the back windows rolled down. Inside the warmth sat the brunette she knew to be one of Mycroft's henchmen, or women rather. She still had her mobile glued to her hands, as usual. "My employer wishes to have a word Miss Devons."

"Can't your employer," she sneered. "Do his own dirty work?"

"I'm assured he can but I know he prefers not to. If you would," the woman opened the door before sliding over in the back seat to allow room for Amber. When the redhead hesitated there was a sigh. "Doctor Watson has been informed he is not needed to escort you home. We will be sure to deliver you safe and sound to the door of 221B Baker Street."

"And what of Sherlock? Has he been informed that your employer wants a word with me in private?" Amber questioned with a fake smile on her face as she slipped into the car enjoying the encompassing warmth that wrapped around her as she closed the door behind her.

Anthea smiled, happy that Mycroft wasn't going to be forced to wait to talk to Amber. "Sherlock has not been informed and my employer wishes to keep him from knowing. Sherlock has told him that you are not to be bothered and I do believe this classifies as 'bothering'."

"Oh yes," Amber mumbled. "It does and you can assure Mycroft that he will be getting a call tomorrow from his little brother. I don't think it will be a very peaceful conversation." She took a little joy in knowing that Sherlock hadn't wanted his brother to bother her anymore than he already had. Granted she was pretty sure she was going to get a tidy little sum of money after the meeting, she was still in no mood to deal with this particular Holmes sibling.

After several minutes of quiet Amber finally spoke, "So tell me, what does Mycroft want from me this time?"

Anthea just shrugged and continued to look at her mobile causing Amber to look out the window at the city. Much to her surprise the drive wasn't overly long and she was deposited in front of a lovely little cafe which was pretty much empty. Anthea walked her inside before waltzing her way outside to stand by the car.

Amber, knowing the drill, walked to where Mycroft was seated with a paper before him. "Hello again Mycroft. What brings me here at such a lovely hour?" she demanded as she not so gracefully dropped herself into a chair, signaling to a waiter. She was going to make the most of this meeting since she knew it would be on his tab.

"Yes ma'am?"

"A black coffee and an orange scone." She knew this place, it was a place she and Sherlock visited often because it was a quick cab ride from the Yard and the prices were relativity cheap. The waiter smiled, nodded, and left to get her order.

"I heard of your scare this morning at a crime scene." Mycroft said having folded his paper while she was ordering.

She sighed. "I am sure everyone who knows me has heard about this morning. However, that doesn't answer my original question. What the bloody hell am I here for Mycroft?" She took a sip of the coffee with a thanks to the waiter who smiled and wandered off to see to the few other patrons of the cafe. She sat there for several moments waiting for him to answer. "Of course I could always call Sherlock, having him come pick me up if you aren't willing to answer a simple question." She was already pulling her phone out of her pocket, flipping it a couple of times in a sort of show.

"I only want what I normally ask of you. You'll receive the same payment as usual."

"You make me sound like a bought woman Mycroft. I doubt Sherlock will enjoy hearing you speak in such a manner to his girlfriend." Amber found it was easier to tease the older of the Holmes boys but he rarely showed the same reaction as his little brother did.

The man had the decency to look horrified before amending his statement. "I simply wish for information concerning my brother. As we agreed the last time we met, I will pay you."

"Better, but still I don't understand why the two of you just can't talk to one another," she muttered as she popped a piece of scone into her mouth chewing thoughtfully. "I know if I had my sister close by I would talk to her often. You two are grown adults and I am sure that you can get over whatever petty row you two had in the first place."

"It is a little more complicated than you would believe Miss Devons."

"Amber," she corrected as she usually did when around him. It was as if he always forgot. "Trust me I know complicated Mycroft. I'm the queen of complicated at the moment considering I've got a stalker after me, my sister who I thought was dead is still missing, and I'm dating your brother. I'm as complicated as it gets." She laughed listlessly. "But since you won't give me details right now I'll tell you what you want to know."

"Thank you," Mycroft tipped an imaginary hat in her direction.

Amber rolled her eyes at the man's antics. "Sherlock is doing lovely. He is eating thanks to me and sleeping as much as I can make him before he starts grumbling. He isn't smoking and neither am I for that matter. He does use his nicotine patches. He isn't shooting walls or driving John and I up a tree. Megan pushes his buttons but all in good fun. He isn't ignoring things or disappearing off into his mind as much. To be truthful I believe Sherlock is showing more emotion that when I first met him."

"That is all thanks to you." Mycroft actually smiled, a pure and honest smile of sincere thanks. "I do wonder though, have you and Sherlock..." the man trailed off, finding the topic a little awkward.

Amber blushed bright red, and looked down to the table top for a moment. "No we haven't though it really isn't any of your business. I've given you your information so if you don't mind," she opened her hand out to the man in a silent demand for her payment.

He sighed, pulled out his checkbook and wrote her a check for five grand. "I thank you for keeping track of Sherlock for me and giving him the money."

"I'm sure you know I don't need it," she signed the check and pocketed it. "It makes John happy, knowing he doesn't have to work full time and that rent and groceries can be bought. Sherlock is aware of our arrangement though he doesn't know we speak face to face."

"He will not be happy to learn we do."

"If you can please inform me via text message before you want to 'kidnap' me I will be more than willing to leave Sherlock thinking I merely talk to you once or twice a month," Amber offered kindly knowing that he might just take the bait to keep his bother off his back.

Mycroft thought it over for a moment. Amber could see the gears working in his mind. He was easy to read, or maybe it was because she spent so much time with Sherlock that she was just learning to read Mycroft. The two of them were after all related. Whatever it was, it was nice to know that they couldn't outfox her as well as they could have several months ago.

Finally Mycroft nodded his agreement. "I suppose it wouldn't be such a hardship to let you know before hand that I wish to speak with you. It would save Anthea the hassle of trying to coerce you into the car."

"It will also help me because then you won't risk catching me when I'm still working."

"You aren't working right now."

"No I'm not but the last time we spoke you picked me up on my lunch break. I was late to my standing date with Sherlock." She threw that piece of information at him hoping that he understood the annoyance his meeting had caused. "I quite literally had to eat my lunch on the run, on the tube, on my way back to the Yard with Sherlock complaining beside me the whole way. Since I wouldn't tell him what had held me up he wasn't to pleased."

"My brother can be a bit insufferable at times."

"So can you," she added with a little bit of venom.

"A family trait then."

She cracked a smile. "Now if you don't mind I do need to get home. I was promised a ride back to my flat which I am sure you are honor bound to uphold." She stood as he did. He nodded in response and swept his hand towards the front doors where she saw Anthea holding the door open, looking a little perturbed to be disconnected from her phone.

Amber thanked Mycroft for the coffee, which she hadn't finished, and the scone, which she had devoured. She slipped into the car followed by the brunette who was now once more stuck to her phone. With her pocket a lot heavier and her annoyance level higher than it had been upon leaving the station, she watched the city come alive before her as the car sped her towards Baker Street.

000000000000000

When Sherlock arrived back to Amber's flat he found her sitting cross-legged on her living room floor, rock music blaring from the speakers around the television, her rabbit hopping aimlessly around while the cat was sitting on top of the bookshelf. Amber herself seemed to be lost in the music, her lips quietly moving with the music, her head bobbing lightly, and her eyes closed.

He doubted she could hear him as he shut the door and moved to sit on the couch. Or maybe she could judging by the small smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth even as she sang softly to the very loud music. He watched her, careful not to actually interrupt her since she seemed to be calm for the time being.

She looked like hell, for lack of another term. Her hair was rather wild around her head and face. He'd seen her hair like that only once before when on a case. She had run her hand through her curls so many times it had begun to take on static and stick out at odd and fluffy angles. Her face was pale, similar to the first time he had ever saw her. Her eyes had bruises underneath contrasting the pallor of her face. She was sitting in her pajamas, which consisted of a pair of green shorts and matching tank top and bra. Her feet were bare as was a lot of her skin.

The sight of her in so little clothing had him flushing worse than when he had first seen her in that damned dress before the gala. She had looked stunning then but now she looked almost ravishing, wild and untamed. _Like the moors of Scotland, _he heard himself thinking despite himself. He had never seen this side of her. Since October upon their first meeting he had seen an agitated Amber, an upset Amber, a scared Amber, and an injured Amber. But never had he seen her so angry and full of silent fury. He hadn't even known her personality held such a facet.

He finally saw the ledge Lestrade had been talking about. It wasn't the kind of ledge that the detective and her therapist thought, however. She was not going to break, she was going to explode and Sherlock didn't think there would be anything that could stop her. He could only help to keep the explosion to a minimum and the casualties limited. Would she be the same in the end when it was all over? Yes, and stronger for it as well.

"Amber," he called softly through the music already knowing she could hear him.

"Hm?" she hummed out in response not even bothering to open her eyes. "Lestrade turn up anything?" Her voice was even, normal, calm.

He didn't know what was more disturbing, the fact that she was so calm or that she was so angry. He could spot the anger in the tense way she held her body, how rigid and straight her back was. "Nothing of use," he reported.

"I didn't figure he would. Dead ends everywhere. I'm starting to think this isn't as random as I originally thought. Why would someone target me though? What have I done, or my family for that matter, that could be so terrible he wishes us all to suffer?" Her eyes opened this time and her green irises were as dark as he had ever seen them. It was the lighting, he knew, but in that moment it made her look just a bit dangerous.

Having no idea what to say to her at this moment, he simply scooped up the rabbit which had hopped her way to his leg. To avoid the little creature nibbling on his trouser leg he had learned holding her was easier.

As soon as Amber saw the bunny in his hands her eyes lost their hard edge, her lips pulled into a very soft and caring smile. Her whole body language seemed to change completely as she unfolded herself from the ground and made her way to the sound system where she turned it off. The flat was bathed in silence which shocked him at first having not realized how loud the music had actually been in the first place.

She came to sit beside him but didn't lean into him as she usually did. She just kind of sat there for a moment and began fidgeting with her fingers. "Sherlock?" she started with hesitance.

"Yes?" He rubbed the rabbit between the ears a couple of times.

Blinking, she looked at him for a moment before casting her gaze at her hands. She stopped fidgeting, laying her hands in her lap while sighing. "Could I have possibly done something to cause this guy to stalk me like this? To do something to my family?" He caught the hard edge in her voice and didn't blame her for it.

"If this stems from when your parents were murdered than it has nothing to do with you. You were a child Amber, helpless and defenseless."

"But what if it doesn't stem from my family. What happens if this is completely about me?" She still sounded angry, her hands having balled into fists, but she sounded so forlorn and lost at the same time. Oh yeah, he could tell she was right there on the edge and he didn't quite like knowing that she was there.

Sherlock put the rabbit on the ground where it quietly hopped off having gotten what it wanted. He took Amber's face between his hands forcing her to look at him. "If this was about you why would this person have a picture, and the hair, of your sister? Tell. Me. Why." He demanded making it seem like he believed she was hiding information from him. He managed to do that by putting suspension into his voice as well as making himself sound cold.

He watched her eyes darken at his tone understanding what he was suggesting. Her eyes glassed over with unshed tears despite the anger flowing through her. He wasn't used to dealing with emotion woman and he hated this, her rampant and variant emotions. He hated that she was feeling all this and not being able to do anything but sit there and let it all happen. She was trusting him, and everyone else working the case, to keep her safe and sane. What a wonderful job they had all done so far. "You can't tell me why," he growled when she didn't respond.

She jerked her head from his hands, a tear finally slipping down her cheek. "Get out," she hissed, her voice cracking just slightly. He didn't move, however. "Get out!" she screamed this time. He still didn't move. "Get. Out." her voice had now taken on a deadly tone.

He still refused to be moved. He was pushing her, yes he knew this. There was a reason, push her to the edge in order to make her realize that she had stop blaming herself. Make her see that blaming herself was pointless and waste of her precious time. He had to push her so she didn't fall. Save her from herself in a way. So when she lashed out with a slap to his arm he didn't so much as flinch, didn't move as she yelled at him some more. He took the abuse until finally she collapsed, spent from the yelling, against him. He wrapped his arms around her now, heard her sob against his chest in what he hoped wasn't full defeat.

After ten minutes of crying he felt her settle, heard the sniffles, and felt her shift in his arms. "This isn't my fault," she announced in such a small timid voice he thought at first he was hearing things.

"I know," he said with such honesty she knew he wasn't lying. "It has never been your fault." He felt himself relax with relief that he hadn't pushed her to the point of no return. He was good at doing that, pushing people until they were only a small version of what they had been before meeting him.

She nodded again his chest before her strengthening voice asked, "Than who's Sherlock?"

"We'll find that out together Amber," he promised, one of the first promises he had ever given to anyone. He wasn't so much the promising sort because a promise implied that it might not be able to be done, that the promise could be broken, and Sherlock always did what he set out to do.

"I'm sorry for hitting you and yelling at you," she murmured lightly, rubbing the spot on his chest where she had punched him after landing a good blow to his arm. "I don't usually get violent, this is so unlike me."

"Don't be sorry," he tilted her chin up with a finger. He laid a soft kiss on her lips noting how her eyes seemed tired now and her body drained. She yawned causing him to give her a small smile. "Time for you to sleep." He understood that she needed the sleep, more so than he did.

"Don't leave me," she begged holding onto him tightly.

He actually chuckled as he pulled her off the couch and onto her feet. "I won't," he promised laying a kiss on the top of her head as he lead her to the bedroom. It was a bit of a lie, he was going to have to leave in order to go get something to change into but he would be back. Of that he was certain. It was starting to look like he should just leave some clothing in her flat. He was spending more and more nights on her couch or in her bed. Having clothing readily available would make his life a little easier.

"Thank you Sherlock, for everything."

"You don't nee—"

Her fingers stopped him from finishing that sentence. "I've thanked you a dozen or more times since we met Sherlock and I have meant every single one of them. They are well deserved on your part. So please don't tell me I don't need to show my gratitude." She crawled her way into bed.

"Then you're welcome."

"Good," she muttered and pat the side of the bed which she wasn't laying on. He kicked off his shoes and crawled in beside her. She snuggled down and wiggled her way so that Sherlock was now spooning her, his arms having automatically gone around her.

She gave a sigh of contentment and tiredness. "Good night Sherlock," her voice whispered.

"Good night Amber," he breathed against her neck softly. As she drifted off to sleep Sherlock lay there, vowing to whatever God there might be, though he didn't truly believe in religion, that he was going to make her feel safe because when he had wanted that same feeling there hadn't been anyone who could help. He was going to make sure she came out of this as unscratched as he could because...he believed he was starting to fall in love with her.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Anything you want to see happen or want explained more in the chapters? Review!**

**A/N: Okay so this chapter was a bit of a filler but it was needed to move the story along properly. I wasn't just going to jump into what I have planned next without having the chapter because it shows just how fragile Amber is at the moment as well as showing how she's fighting to keep herself strong. **

**The end of this chapter...well I'm not quite sure how it turned out. Is it believable or did I jump the gun? Please let me know what you think! **

**Until next time my lovelies!**


	28. Chapter 26

_**Hello my dear readers! I apologize for the lateness of this chapter. I have, lets say, been nose deep in finals and I have finally been freed for the summer! I meant to update this past Sunday but it slipped my mind. However, as a treat for waiting those extra few days to get this chapter you will be treated to the next chapter on Sunday as originally planned. So basically you get two chapters in the space three/four days. Hope that makes up for the wait!**_

_**Empress of Verace: **Oh, be prepared for more feels! *evil laugh*_

_**CarminaxBuranax: **I just want to say that every time I get your reviews I'm always so nervous, but in a good way. I love hearing from you, as I do from all my readers. So I just want to say thank you, like a million times over! I really hope you enjoy this chapter!_

**_Gwilwillith: _**_I'm so glad you enjoy every chapter, it makes me smile to hear that. That is my goal, trying to make the characters, be them canon or OC, seem human and real. I'm glad I've managed to do that so far._

**_KijoKuroi: _**_Glad to hear it! Enjoy the chapter!_

**_Loki'sdreamer: _**_We will be seeing some more emotions from Sherlock, because in a way that will suit the story. Not saying how much emotion but we'll be seeing it pop up on an off. Hope you don't mind!_

**_The Yoshinator: _**_I lied about the regular updates, but only this once I promise. I'm finally on summer break so the updates will finally be regular. I shouldn't have said anything until AFTER finals lol. Anyways, feel free to end your reviews however you usually do! _

**_Protagonist Of Life: _**_Yes love, lol. Enjoy the chapter!_

_So enjoy! And remember to let me know what you think!_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize. This means I own Amber and all the crazy things I throw at her. I also own Megan, but I think you all know that!_

* * *

**[026]**

Five days later John was escorting Amber to work, as had become the usual routine. She had calmed down enough to the point where she was no longer shouting in anger at having someone, even someone she enjoyed being around, following her around most of the day. In fact she had grown fond of it after having used Sherlock and John as pack mules on her shopping adventure to Waitrose the day before. The men hadn't enjoyed it, but judging by the overflowing pantry, she had.

Sherlock had been none to pleased to be told he would not be taking her to work that morning, seeing as he was the one who usually escorted her. Of course she had managed to kiss him thoroughly enough that he didn't argue as she walked with John out the front door. She had left Sherlock gaping like a fish, staring with stars in his eyes after the kiss. She liked that she could have that deep of an affect on the consulting detective who rarely showed such emotions. It was becoming a bit of an addiction, kissing him senseless.

Of course she could understand his reluctance at letting another person protect her but sometimes she just needed her space. That and she wanted to talk with John, something she hadn't done much of in the past month. So instead of taking a cab, Amber decided it was a good idea to leave earlier and take the tube. It was cold but not too abrasively as it had been the last few days. "Thanks for this John."

"No problem. It gets me out of the flat."

Amber smiled at that. Sherlock could be unbearable at times, even for her. She had to be thankful however that he had calmed down greatly since first meeting her. She could still remember the first time she had heard him shooting up Mrs. Hudson's wall. It hadn't been enjoyable really, she had been rudely awoken from a nap only to roll flat onto the floor in her startled state. She could laugh at herself now but at the time she had truly thought someone was being shot upstairs and she had been scared. She had even rushed to the flat above in panic only to see Sherlock sprawled in his chair, a gun loosely held in his hand. At that point she had simply growled, called him a few select names, and marched herself right back downstairs to her flat slamming the door for good measure.

"He isn't too bad, or hasn't been lately that is," she said offhandedly, hoping that John agreed with her.

"I suppose trying to find your stalker has been helping, along with those skinnings Lestrade is working." Amber noted his slight shudder at the mention of the latter of the cases his friend and flatmate seemed to be working. She didn't blame him. This was the worse crime she had ever had the pleasure of working. She would gladly forget it when it was over. But John had been in battle, she doubted it was the worse he had ever seen. However she couldn't blame him for having skipped out on helping Sherlock at the two most recent crimes scenes. She herself hadn't wanted to be there either.

She just nodded lightly without saying much. Her agreement was implied. As they entered the Baker Street Underground station John asked a question that surprised her. "Have you and Sherlock slept together?" It was such a random question, something so out of the blue and it had nothing to do with what they had been talking about moments ago.

"Excuse me?" she squeaked incredulously as she swiped her OysterCard seeing several passersby staring at them in shock. They had of course heard the question. "Why does everyone keep asking me that?" She muttered angrily.

"Who else has asked you?" His brows raised on his forehead as she flushed pink, at least he assumed she was flushing because of her embarrassment. Then again it could have been because of the cold wind outside. He couldn't be sure since she was pale to begin with and her cheeks tinted often for many different reasons.

Shaking her head she headed for the stairs, forgoing the lift and the flood of humanity fighting for a spot. _Better to get a bit of exercise instead of being trampled to death_, she thought with a shrug as she headed for the Central Line out of habit. "Mycroft, last week when I met with him. I don't know what it is with everyone wanting to know my personal business. Megan asked yesterday and Mrs. Hudson has been teasing around the subject for two weeks now. Why does everyone assume we've slept together?"

"It's just..." John started awkwardly. "Sherlock has been more mellow and less of a pain in the ass and you've been so calm and collected and more hands on with Sherlock."

"I have? How so?" she frowned. She didn't think she was acting any different, besides her frequent panic attacks at night or upon hearing odd noises in the building. She knew Sherlock wasn't as annoying lately but that was because he had cases to work, or so she thought.

It was John's turn to blush now. "Well you just seem to be closer to him." When she just rose a brow, turning her head to look at him as she walked down the stairs, he gulped. He felt more embarrassed than she had when he had asked the question to begin with. This was not how it was supposed to work, but then again she was smart and she could turn anything back on the person talking. "A few days ago when Sherlock was sitting in his chair thinking, you just sat yourself in front of him, wrapped an arm around his leg, and read a book. Um," he searched for another example. "Yesterday you practically crawled yourself onto his lap while watching the telly. Things like that. You never used to do that."

"So you lot think we've slept together because I've become more touchy?" She could see his reasoning though she didn't understand it.

"And Sherlock has been more calm about it all." John supplied with a shrug as if that explained it all.

Amber laughed now as they came to the platform. "John, we haven't slept together sexually. He has been sleeping in the bed with me but nothing has happened. I suppose the comfort of being close to one another has brought us a tad bit closer together." She raised a shoulder in a nonchalant shrug.

"Oh," John muttered lightly lapsing into silence.

A couple of moments passed before Amber had a bright idea. If she had to share private information, the least she could do was ask in kind. "I assume you and Meg have had sex?" she questioned already knowing the answer. She just wanted to see him flounder about in search of an answer that didn't make him seem like a pervert.

She had the satisfaction of watching his mouth open and shut as if he couldn't think of a proper answer. She also saw how his face, ears, and neck, turned the brightest shade of red she had ever seen. She began to laugh lightly before it turned into a full blown laughing fit as the train barreled through the tunnel to stop at the platform. She was still laughing as they each grabbed hold of the poles. John's face had lost its blush as he had realized what she was doing. His lips were now set in the half scowl, half smile of a man who wasn't sure whether this was funny or annoying.

With a roll of her eyes, her laughter dwindled down to a giggle until she finally settled, using a finger to wipe at the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes from her mirth. "Sorry, I really could not help it. You asked me such a personal question so I just had to ask you. I know the answer, I'm not naïve and Megan is by far not secretive." That caused him to blush and her to chuckle once again. "She's not vocal about her sexual adventures John but she has mentioned your first few encounters but nothing in detail. You can quit looking like I've shot you. Whatever you do to my friend is between the two of you." She couldn't help the snort she gave at his horrified look at her last statement.

Because of the previous conversation they fell once more into silence while finishing their ride on the tube. They were still silent as they exited at their stop and made their way to the street level. Once out on the street Amber sighed. "How is Sherlock when he's not around me? I know he's frustrated about the lack of evidence but when he's with me he doesn't show it. He's always so calm and concerned with me. We don't talk about the case, mine in particular."

John thought for a moment. Sherlock didn't talk much about Amber's case. He had a feeling it was to avoid conversations like this that John and Amber might have. "He doesn't talk much about your stalker or the case surrounding it. He's Sherlock. He does Sherlock like things. He keeps human parts in the fridge, forgets to pick up milk, and is a general condescending bastard half the time. He talks a lot about you, not surprisingly."

That made her smile. She liked when Sherlock talked to her, even more when he talked about her to others, even if it was only John and Mrs. Hudson. It meant he cared, cared more than he had about a woman she believed. She loved talking about Sherlock to others be it Megan, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson or her cousins and aunt. He brought her a measure of peace and comfort even if he wasn't as open as she would have liked in a boyfriend. She wouldn't trade him for the world.

And that was when it hit her. In an instant, with the feeling of hundred thousand butterflies fluttering about her stomach, she realized just how much she cared for Sherlock Holmes. It wasn't just that she liked him. Oh no. It had moved far beyond that. She realized she was in love with him, head-over-heels-wouldn't-leave-him-for-nothing kind of love. It was like someone had hit her in the stomach, nearly knocking the wind out of her.

She must have paled or made some kind of noise getting John's attention. "Are you alright?" he asked grabbing onto her arm to steady her. "You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"I'm," she took a deep breath. "I'm perfectly fine," she whispered as she felt a slow nervous smile spread across her face. She was in love with Sherlock Holmes, the man who had gotten on her nervous when they had first met. The man she often wanted to punch when he was being rude. The man who made her head spin with his words and kisses. The man who made her feel safe even when someone was after her. Love, she was in love again and it felt...wonderful!

Yet it also felt scary. She didn't know how Sherlock felt. He wasn't open about his emotions, at least not ones that she wanted to know about. He was vocal about annoyance, that was for sure, but feeling such as love, even lust, had never been spoken of between the two of them. She had alluded to it in the past, the lust that was, skirting just around the edges of teasing.

"You're drifting off again," John drew her attention once more from her mind back to reality. She was going to have to work on that, she really was.

"Sorry, just got a lot on my mind is all." She played it off with a smile as they walked in the direction of Scotland Yard.

John nodded in understanding. "Do you think you should be working? I mean with everything that has happened I don't think Greg would blame you for missing a few days."

Amber sighed. Of course he would go down the same route Megan and Mrs. Hudson had. Sherlock had been all for her going back to work, stating that if she didn't work it was likely the killer would slip completely through the fingers of the police. The compliment had made her smile even if he was completely wrong. The police were capable of handling their cases even if Sherlock didn't believe so. She wasn't going to say that to him however knowing he would pout until she appeased his ego.

"This is the last time I am going to state this; I am not taking off from work. I have been cleared and given the okay to work by the department therapist."

Putting up his hands in surrender, knowing when he was defeated, John said no more on the topic. He knew her temper was hair trigger as of late and he had no urge to be on the receiving end if she exploded. "How are you—" When she just glared he didn't finish the statement as he walked her to the front of the building.

"Again thanks John, for walking me this morning," she toyed with one end of her scarf. It had been a truly awkward journey from Baker Street to the Yard, them both having brought of the more physical aspects of their relationships to each others respective friend. Odd how that had worked out.

He smiled at her. "Anytime Amber."

With her own smile now she pulled him into a light hug. He was a good friend and though this wasn't his problem and he didn't have to worry about her, he did. She was thankful to have people like John in her life. Those friends had been few and far between growing up and even bleeding into her adult life. "Are you going to be picking me up after work?" She released him and stood there, a little less awkward than before.

"No it'll be Sherlock or Megan or both. I have work at the surgery." Amber hadn't known he had work that day.

"Please don't let it be both!" she exclaimed with a laugh. They just looked at each other for a moment before they burst into giggles. Megan had become increasingly annoying around Sherlock, her taking great pleasure in teasing him about his relationship with Amber. Of course that teasing often lead to Sherlock making rude and mostly unnecessary comments about Megan which in turn lead to arguments and shouts. It had become normal for weekend evenings to go that way.

Eventually they composed themselves and bid each other goodbye. Amber, dressed as she usually was on days where she didn't start out in the field, stripped off her peacoat just within the building. With it draped over her arm she smiled to the guards and some of her co-workers as she walked towards the lift. She wasn't in the mood to use the stairs as she usually did, finding today since she had taken the tube she could forgo walking up several flights.

The lift stopped on the second floor letting on several people including Donovan. The other woman barely made eye contact with Amber, looking anywhere but at the redhead. Usually Donovan would stare angrily or glare for some unknown reason. Today she wouldn't even flick her gaze to Amber. _Odd_, she thought but paid it no mind. Whatever the woman was thinking Amber really didn't care.

Exiting on their floor Amber headed first to her office where she booted up her computer. She found it even more odd when no one she usually worked with would look at her. If they did their eyes read pity, so much more pity than had been there yesterday. They all knew her circumstances, the terrible situation she found herself in, but none of them had ever looked at her as if they truly felt sorry for her. Today they all did and she didn't like it one bit.

With a tremendous amount of trepidation she went to Lestrade in the hopes that maybe he would have some answers as to why everyone seemed to be looking at her as if she were made out of thin glass. She found his office door shut and him nowhere to be found. Frowning she pulled out her mobile and called him. The call rang through to his voice mail where she left a brief message about him meeting her in her office because she needed to speak with him.

Seeing nothing else she could do she headed back to her office to start on her work for the day.

000000000000000

It wasn't until after lunch that Lestrade finally got back to her, however it wasn't in the form of a phone call nor was he alone when he walked into her office after one. What surprised her the most was the fact that it wasn't just Sherlock with Lestrade. It was John and Megan, all of them looking a little scared to be there. It was odd, almost as odd as Donovan avoiding her that morning as well as everyone giving her a large amount of personal space. Even when she had learned her sister was alive no one gave her as much space as she had been given today. It was disconcerting to say the least.

"Um," Amber stared, confused at the group filing into her office now. "Don't you both have work?" she motioned to John and Megan.

"We, uh, took a half day. Thought it would be a nice...idea." Megan mumbled the last bit which caught Amber's attention more than their sudden and surprise appearance. Megan was a forward woman, out spoken, bright, and assertive. To see her standing there almost meekly as if afraid to speak her mind concerned Amber quite a bit.

"Amber," Lestrade started just as Sherlock walked farther into the room coming up beside a now standing Amber. She felt her stomach flutter, a reaction to Sherlock coming closer to her person as well as the revelation she had come to that morning. She wanted to go to him, wrap herself up in him. Somehow she felt that something bad was about to be announced and she knew she was going to need some measure of comfort.

"Please, just come out with it Lestrade. I don't have all day." Her voice was uncertain, as if giving away the fact she didn't want to actually know the news that he brought with him.

"I think you should sit down," John said motioning towards the chair she had abandoned moments ago.

If John was telling her to sit down than it wasn't good. Her mind immediately raced to the only thing it possibly could. If everyone was there, it had to do with herself. Something had happened that they thought she needed her support system. It had to do with her sister and she prayed they weren't here to tell her that a body had been found. She prayed, and she never prayed, that her sister wasn't dead.

When she didn't move after several seconds, Sherlock gently placed his hands on her shoulders steering her down towards the seat of her desk chair. He walked behind her keeping physical contact with her the whole time. She felt one of his hands slip to the base of her neck where he absently rubbed to ease the tension just under the surface. She had a feeling the others noticed but refused to point it out.

"We got the DNA results from the blood found at the crime scene," the older DI started rather softly.

Amber felt her breath hitch. "Who was the victim?"

"We don't know who the victim is. A match couldn't be found. It was the blood found leading towards the door that we got a match on."

Her head perked up now. That blood, the blood she inferred was from the killer or at least left there by the killer as a distraction for the police. She must have been right, but for them to be there looking somber meant that something else was going on. "Who did it belong to?" she asked in a whisper already knowing what they were about to say.

"It was matched to your sister."

Amber felt her body sag in the chair as her head began to spin. There were so many questions she had. So many what ifs and whys. So many things she wanted to ask but for the life of her she couldn't find the strength to do so. She knew that if her sister's blood had been found at the crime scene in such precision on the ground then the killer had direct access to Brianna. That could only mean that he was, in someway, her stalker. That was unless he had hired someone else to follow her about the city. It didn't matter which it was, her situation had just become twice as bad as it originally had been. It was no longer her personal life at stake but now her actual life.

"What does that mean for us?" Megan was the one who spoke, not as aggressive as she would have normally asked such a question.

"I'm going to have a protective detail with each of you. Considering you three are extremely close to Amber I want you all to be watched just on the off chance that this...person might use you to get to her. I've already got a detail watching your building night and day but you're going to have someone with you at all times when you are outside your homes. Megan, it would be wise if you stayed with Amber for time being until we make an arrest.," Lestrade explained carefully.

"I can't have some person following me about at work. The A&E won't have it!" Megan screeched now, her anger having finally broken through the shock of this new information. "I'll be fired!"

Pretty much just sitting there, Amber blinked. Her mind hadn't quite caught up with the information she was receiving. She was still hearing the facts that Lestrade had spouted, the fact that her sister's blood had been found in that building. She knew it had been purposely put there, she had figured that out by the way the drops had been set on the ground as if to indicate movement when in reality there hadn't been any. That made her wonder, was the blood left there from a vial and dropper or had her lifeless body been thrown over the killer's shoulder and carefully walked out so that those perfect little drops hit the floor how they had?

There were so many questions and she didn't have the answers. Her mind was running rampant, though she knew that wasn't logical. As smart as she was, as much as she valued her intelligence and ability to think on a higher level than most of the people around her, she was a normal woman. Her emotions ran high, her stress level was through the roof, and in this situation, she was feeling so very helpless. No matter how strongly her mind told her this was the wrong way to be acting her instincts told her other wise. It was like an internal war, a war in which she was slowly losing what little sanity she had left following her none-to-perfect early childhood.

She suddenly felt a hand forcefully push against her neck, bending her forward until her head was between her knees and she was staring at a stunning pair of black dress shoes. Her brain screamed that the shoes belonged to Sherlock, that it was his hand on the back of her neck, yet she struggled even as she realized she was having a very rough time breathing.

Hyperventilating, she realized suddenly. That was what was happening. She was hyperventilating and Sherlock was trying to keep her from fainting, or worse, her breathing stopping. She willed her body to stop struggling, to accept the fact that she was being held still, yet an animalistic part of her mind screamed for her to fight because that was what a person did when being held against their will, even so mildly as by a hand on the neck. Even if it was for her own good.

"Amber," she heard her name called through her fear filled haze. "Amberlyn!" It was Sherlock's voice calling to her but it did nothing to pull her out of her frenzy.

"Should be call an ambulance?" that was John, concern for the redhead dripping from his every word. There was sobbing, certainly not her own. She pinpointed it as Megan and that was enough to pull her out of it. Megan rarely cried.

Her body slowly stopped fighting, both against Sherlock and getting air into her lungs. After several moments the world cleared and she found herself breathing normally as the warm, and rather large, hand left the back of her neck, fingertips lingering just a moment longer than needed. It was Sherlock's way of giving comfort in such an uncomfortable and new situation.

"Amber," Lestrade this time. Her ears were clear, her brain finally clearing out the fog and haze as she slowly sat herself back up. She blinked rapidly taking a deep breath before running a hand through her already tangled hair.

"I am so sorry," she muttered softly.

"You need to go home."

"No, I'm fine. I just," she trailed off looking for the right way to explain it. "I just couldn't process everything going on in my mind for a second. One moment I'm thinking that work was becoming dull and the next I'm being told that my sister, the sister that up until a couple of months ago I believed dead, had blood turning up at a crime scene I worked while I'm being stalked. It was a lot to take in and I..."

"Broke down," John finished for her. "You just had an emotional breakdown, which is understandable in this situation but Lestrade is right. You really do need to go home." He was rubbing Megan's back, her eyes slightly red-rimmed.

"Put on some music, have a glass of wine, take a long bath," Megan sniffled out. "Read or something. Just take your mind off what is going on." She pleaded.

Amber shook her head, looking over her shoulder at Sherlock who, up until this point had said nothing. "I'm not going to go home. I am NOT going to let this break me anymore than it already has. I have a case to work and if we can close this case than maybe, just maybe I'll have my sister back and I'll have my life back."

"Amber," Sherlock started slowly, unsure of how exactly to tell her he sided with John and the others. It wasn't often, if at all, that he sided with them. He knew that Amber was a person of higher mental ability, yet she showed just as much predisposition to her emotions as anyone of the fools he met on the street. He knew that while her brain might be telling her she needed to work, her body was telling her other wise. Healthy people under stress rarely hyperventilated, let alone did so without actually realizing it was happening. Amber was suffering and he found the stem of this suffering was, for the most part, her work. Everyday she came face to face with violence, having to be reminded of the fact that she too was a victim. He wanted her to go home, where he could watch her, where she could try to relax, where she was safe. He had never wanted something like that for another human being, let alone himself. He was the type of person who was more likely to jump into a violent situation without so much as batting an eyelash. Today, well, today was a different case entirely.

"What?" she hissed, already knowing what he was thinking even if he hadn't said it. She could read it all over his handsome face. The way his jaw was tense, as if trying not to say anything. The way his eyes flicked to Lestrade and John yet he didn't look her directly in the eyes. But the most damning evidence she had against him was the fact he didn't jump to defend her reasoning. He had almost always done that in the past. He wasn't doing it now and, while she understood his reasoning, it hurt to know he wasn't standing behind her, the way a boyfriend should.

"I don't believe that you should be working today."

"You believe?" Her voice raised an octave as she narrowed her eyes at him. She watched his pupils dilate, the way they often did when she became frustrated and used the tone of voice she had now or how they did when she kissed him. She knew it wasn't just a reaction of surprise, it went more primal than that. He was attracted to her, turned on in a sense by the deadly tone. Why? She had no clue, but she could feel her own pulse speed up in response. "Why do you believe I should go home when I have more than four days worth of work piled on my desk?" She made a show of sweeping her hand out towards the ever growing pile of paper folders. While the department was trying to go paperless she knew that it would never happen, no matter how hard they tried. It was just too expensive at the moment.

"You haven't had many days off as of late. You have circles under your eyes proving that while you might sleep you aren't sleeping well. You're nails have been gnawed down to the quick and are starting to bleed. I doubt you have even realized you chew your nails when stressed. Your hair is so tangled from you running your hands through it I doubt you could brush it without breaking said brush. You just hyperventilated without your mind or body realizing you were doing it. You are overstressed, overworked, and in need of time away from everything," Sherlock said with a small amount of hesitance as if not sure that he wanted to face her rage. When her body sagged he knew that she had given in. She was going to go home.

"Fine," she sighed, running a hand over her face. She had forgotten about her glasses and when her hand didn't meet them on her face she frowned. Looking at the ground she grabbed up the frames and slipped them onto her nose, realizing that she hadn't been seeing very clearly since sitting straight up. "Sherlock," she said as she stood, swaying before falling into him. "Please, just take me home," she fought a sob as she watched Megan gather up her things while Sherlock wrapped her in his arms in an uncharacteristically public display of his affection for the redhead.

At this point he didn't care, her plea for him to take her home softened him in that moment. All he cared about was getting her very far away from the stress and getting her mind off the increasingly dangerous situation that seemed to revolve around her.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Reviews are always welcome!**

**A/N: I hope you all are enjoy the story thus far. I apologize if these next few chapters seem dramatic or full of feels but well I'm moving the plot forward and I'm doing what needs to be done. Trust me it hurts me just as much as it hurts you all to see Amber suffering in such a manner. Anyways, let me know what you think. And as always see you guys next time, which will be Sunday! I promise you!**


	29. Chapter 27

_Hello there, as promised here is the next chapter. A little gift to all of you for having dealt with my rather odd updating schedule. I had fully intended to not update again until next Sunday instead of posting chapter so close together but I felt that would be wrong of me. So enjoy the chapter and know that I have finally gotten to a point where my updating will be weekly, at least with this story! _

_**CarminaxBuranax**: Thank you again for the reviews! I am so happy to hear that you get excited when you see the email of me having updated. I get excited whenever I get the email saying you've reviews...in fact I get excited whenever anyone reviews. I'm am more than happy to hear that you honestly have come to care for Amber and that I have been able to elicit such reactions from you! So I thank you for any criticism you give because I know you're helping me! Enjoy the chapter._

_**bored411**: I got both of your reviews. If it helps I can start PMing you again when I update until FanFiction gets the email thing worked out. I hope you enjoy the chapter and the fast update! _

_**Gwilwillith**: Thank you! And Sunday is here so I hope you like the chapter._

_**The Yoshinator**: Yes, poor Amber, things are just terrible for her. Enjoy :)_

_**Loki'sdreamer**: I don't think Amber is unlucky, just more unfortunately circumstanced at the moment. Sherlock has evolved in the way of his feelings and he will continue to evolve as the story progresses. Enjoy the chapter!_

_**Empress of Verace**: The grades are not in on my final exams yet. Sadly, I did finish early, most of my college doesn't finish until mid-this coming week. Now onto the story; yes poor Amber, there isn't any other way she can react to this kind of situation without freaking out. We will get to meet her sister, I'm not saying when or how but we will ;) Enjoy this update!_

_Be forewarned this is probably more fluff and gooeyness and you'll probably get annoyed but I'm fairly happy with this chapter and I hope you are too!_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing but Amber and Megan and all the interesting plotline you guys have come to love. I do not own Sherlock...though there are moments I wish I really really did. _

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**[027]**

For the next two days Amber was given what she could only refer to as a forced holiday. This consisted of Lestrade and everyone else she worked with, forcing her to stay home, to relax, and to rest until she felt back in fighting shape. She hadn't had the heart to tell them that until her sister was in her arms and this whole stalker situation was put behind her, she wouldn't be in perfect shape. She just wanted it all to be over.

Yet as much as she wanted this whole dilemma to be over, she found herself gnawing at the bit to get back into the field. She hated being cooped up in her flat with nothing to do but sit around watching the telly or reading a book. Sherlock wasn't always there, neither was Megan or John or even Mrs. Hudson. For the most part during the past two days she had been left alone to her own devices which had lead to home cooked meals for all in the building as well as a completely knew arrangement of her living room and bedroom. So when Megan got home from work early one evening and offered to take her to dinner, just the two of them, Amber jumped at the chance to get the hell out for a while.

Of course that meant a police escort. They had both turned down the boy's offer to join them. They were in dire need of a hen night, which meant no men allowed. Even the officer with them was female. That, Amber believed, had been fate given the fact that she wasn't one of the usual officers assigned the watch the building. She was a stand-in for one of the officers who had been their earlier but had to go due to a family emergency. It had worked out in their favor of course.

They ended up across the city in a fancy little bistro as far from Baker Street as they could get without the officer becoming too upset. Amber was sure that the officer would have been more pleased if they had decided to dine down the street but neither of them wanted to be that close to home. So now the duo was nestled in a corner booth while the third member of their party sat at a table not to far from them with an 360 view of the whole bistro. It was also close enough that they could be watched but far enough away that they wouldn't be overheard.

Amber had a fizzy drink sitting in front of her and Megan had opted for a glass of wine. They were both still looking at the menu while they nibbled of the proffered bread the restaurant offered to all tables. "It's been far to long since just the two of us went out," Amber started, putting down her menu. She knew what she wanted. She'd been there a few times with Sherlock.

"I know!" Megan exclaimed in exasperation. "I would have preferred a club or a pub though."

Amber chuckled, taking a drink of the tropically fruity monstrosity in front of her. It was refreshing and so unlike her. She just needed something...different for a change. "That would have been preferable but given the circumstances I believe this is the best we're going to get until this is all said and done."

Megan sighed, knowing that her friend was correct but not liking the fact any. "I know. I just...there are moments where I wonder if maybe we shouldn't have ever come to London. I mean, this didn't start," Amber rose her brow causing Megan to change course. "I mean it wasn't that bad when we lived in Sussex. You got a couple of pictures in the post once or twice a year. That was it. You always shrugged it off and forgot about it. Back then there wasn't anything to worry about, not really."

"That might be true Meg but think about it," she tried to smile, but she doubted it came out how she wanted it too. "If I had stayed in Sussex, under the assumption that this person wouldn't escalate to this point, where would that leave me? I'd still be thinking my sister was dead, I'd still have a stalker, and I would be single."

"Would that be so bad?" Megan snorted, sipping at her wine. "The being single part, that is?"

With a brow raised Amber flicked a crumb at her friend before laughing. "It wouldn't have been bad. I guess I didn't know what I was missing when I lived down in Sussex. I dated, sure, but none of them gave me the same spark as I had in the past and now have with Sherlock. I suppose," she fiddled with her napkin. "I hadn't been looking for a relationship in Sussex, hadn't even been looking for one when I moved to London," she didn't get to finish her statement as a waiter approached them.

"What can I get for you ladies tonight?" He was younger than the two of them, but not by too much.

Amber smiled lightly, offered her menu for him to take. "I'll have the soup of the day to start as well as the salmon and roasted vegetables."

He nodded, turning to Megan. "And for you?"

Handing him her menu she thought on it for a moment, "I suppose I'll have a house salad to start. I was wondering, instead of the salmon with the roasted vegetables could you make it cod?"

"I'm sure we can do that for you ma'am." The waiter smiled sweetly as he left, the two woman were once more alone.

"So if you weren't looking for a relationship in London why did you start one?" The brunette asked, curious now.

Amber had truly never thought about it before. She hadn't been looking for romance when she had decided to take the job offer in London. She had just wanted a change and the city had offered that. Stumbling onto Sherlock and forging an actual relationship with the consulting detective had blindsided her. It was a lovely blindside, she wouldn't have looked for romance on her own that was for sure. Having tumbled into it made the whole adventure seem more...well fun.

"I don't know," she offered with a small shrug of her shoulders

"And why the hell did you choose Sherlock Holmes? Of all the men in the city, why that arrogant ass?" Megan was not fond of Sherlock, she had made that painfully clear from day one. No matter what Amber tried, no matter what she said, she couldn't change the darker haired girl's opinion of the consulting detective.

The redhead just chuckled softly. "I didn't choose him Megan. You know romance doesn't work that way."

"Of course it does. You pick your partner, not the opposite way around. There are no arranged marriages here, at least none that I've come across."

With a roll of her eyes, Amber sighed. "Okay, so maybe I chose him a bit. You can't deny that he's handsome. Tall, lean, dark hair, dashing fashion sense, and my god that bone structure. I mean Michelangelo couldn't have carved a statue with such stunning facial features. Not to mention he's smarter than any man I've ever met."

"And he's an arrogant ass who doesn't deserve someone as sweet as you. I've seen it a thousand times, Am. Once another pretty face catches his interest, if he even has an actual interest besides the cases you offer, he'll be off without so much as a second glance in your direction."

"His personality might leave something to be desired but who doesn't have their issues? And when the bloody hell did you get so cynical about my choice in men?"

"I just don't want to see you getting hurting, that's all," Megan trailed off as their starters were delivered to the table. With a thanks to the waiter the brunette leveled her eyes on Amber. "You've been through so much and with everything that's going on, I just worry about you."

Amber tasted the soup, smiled, and ate a bit before speaking. "I love you so much Megan and I thank you for looking out for me but I'm a big girl and my heart doesn't need to be guarded by anyone besides myself. I can handle this without you lurking and harping. I like Sherlock okay, he might be an ass to you and you might not like him but what you think doesn't really mean anything. We're not fifteen and I don't need you to like who I have a relationship with. Who I fall in love with is my own damn business and if you don't like it you can bloody well walk right out that door now."

Megan sputtered, not that harsh tone or rant but at that fact that Amber had just used the word 'love' in that speech in connection to Sherlock. "Did you just say 'fall in love with'? Are you falling in love with Sherlock Holmes?"

Feeling the blush creep into her cheeks, she cursed herself for even having opened her mouth in the first place. "Fall, fell, I suppose they're all the same word in the end. Just different tenses." She waved her spoon in the air in front of her.

Megan's jaw dropped now, her fork clattered to her bowl loudly. "You're in love with him?! When did this happen?"

"How the bloody hell do I know! It just happened. It's not like I woke up one day and said to myself that I was going to love Sherlock Holmes. Love isn't like that, it just happens. While we choose our mates would don't choose if we love them or not. That is purely chemical and emotional, something that isn't controlled."

"Okay, then when did you realize it?"

"Two days ago when John was walking me to work. He mentioned that Sherlock talked about me a lot of the time and then I started thinking about him. I realized, in the middle of the damn street, that I was in love with him. It was a shock Megan, I nearly stopped breathing. I haven't been in love since I was married to Scot. And thinking about it now, I think that might have just been puppy love, you know the kind you get when you're in college and you think it's going to last forever?" Amber drifted back to her youth, granted she was still rather young, it was just she had been more of a child when she had been with Scot than she was now at twenty eight.

"And you think Sherlock might be the 'forever' kind of love that Scot wasn't?" Megan was getting a little more nervous as each second passed. The last time Amber had talked of love, any kind of love, she had ended up married and later divorced.

The redhead sighed in annoyance, more at herself than her friend. "I don't know, maybe a little. I mean I've been dating him for four months. Love is kind of a strong word at this point in the relationship."

"It took you a year, mind you this is what you said to me, to believe you were falling for Scot. You're four months into a relationship with the biggest ass I've had the pleasure of meeting and you already know you're in love with him. That says a lot Amber, it really does." Megan, while worried about who her friend happened to be in love with, felt the same joy she had felt when Amber had been in love with Scot. Amber deserved some measure of happiness after such a crappy start to her life, and with everything going on now it was only fair that she got another chance at that happiness.

Amber laughed, a light sound that startled Amber. "It does doesn't it? Are you mad?"

Megan shook her head soberly, "I can't be mad at you. Sherlock has kept you from jumping off the proverbially ledge for the last two weeks. Much to my disdain, he seems to be good for you. I suppose, in a way, you've been good for him as well. He's not as much of an arrogant ass as when I first met him."

"Will you stop going on about him being an ass. I understand that, he's an ass and he's arrogant but he's brilliant and he can act however he wants to."

There was a sharp laugh from Megan, "And that my dear friend is why you are more than certainly head of heels for Sherlock Holmes."

"What?" Amber's brows furrowed, not quite understanding.

"You just defended your boyfriend's personality on the grounds that he's smart."

"Well I can be a bitch and I'm smart."

"Not the same," Megan shook her head fondly at her redheaded friend. She would work on being more polite to Sherlock if only for Amber's sake. She had grown to respect him, because in her mind respect didn't mean you had to like a person. She didn't understand his methods, or even what Amber saw in him. But whatever the redhead saw brought stars to her eyes and made her smile. It was worth getting to actually know Sherlock if it meant Amber would smile more like she did when around him.

000000000000000

"She's in love with you," John announced from where he sat in his chair across from Sherlock. The taller of the men sat in his leather chair, his hands steepled in front of his mouth as if in contemplation. Of course that was what was going on. Sherlock was at a dead end in both cases he currently had. He had made John put a note on the website that they were not taking any cases at the moment because they were too busy. While that wasn't a lie it wasn't really the truth either.

"Who?" Sherlock grunted having not really heard what John had said, or at least not understanding what his friend meant.

John sighed, folded his paper and set it on the table to stare at Sherlock with a brow raised. "Amber."

"What about her?"

"She's in love with you Sherlock," he said, incredulously that his friend was that oblivious.

Sherlock's brows drew together. "Why do you say that?" He asked, his mind significantly distracted from his previous thoughts. He had, in the last two days, given much thought to the state of his own 'feelings' towards the redhead he practically lived with. He hadn't figured out if it was love or if it was simply lust. He threw in the possibility that it could be the rush she offered due to her unusual circumstances that made him feel for her.

"I was talking to her the other day when I was walking her to work. We were talking about you," he stressed for importance. "And then it was like she saw a ghost, her face went so pale and she just kind of stopped for a moment. Then she smiled, I don't think she really knew she was doing it. It was this soft, peaceful smile, like she had realized something she enjoyed realizing. But from the look in her eyes she was startled and scared as well."

"And," Sherlock prompted, wondering how exactly this meant Amber was in love with him.

John sighed once more, rubbing a hand down his face. "A woman doesn't get that kind of look for no reason. Using my own highly advanced deduction skills involving relationships and romance, I came to the conclusion that she's either in love with you or realized how much of an annoying bastard you are and has decided to punch you in the face."

"She hasn't said anything," he reasoned, feeling a little bit of panic. Panic was new, well not so new as the idea of romantic love was. He had felt panic when dealing with Moriarty almost a year ago. He didn't do well with panic, at least he was finding that out now.

John saw that panic, saw it in Sherlock's sharp blue eyes. He saw a storm there, an unsure and scared storm that the dark haired man would never admit to, even if he had a gun pointed to his head. He smirked slightly, feeling satisfaction that he had made Sherlock react in such a manner. It was evil of him to take pleasure in this kind of situation but he really didn't care.

"Of course not. She's a woman." John said as if that explained everything.

"That doesn't make sense," Sherlock argued.

"Have you told her you love her?" John countered, hoping his friend slipped in someway, giving away his feelings for their redheaded neighbor.

"No, why would I? She hasn't said anything." And there it was.

"So you do love her?"

Sherlock's eyes widened, realizing he had just been outfoxed by his army doctor flatmate. John was smarter than he had given him credit for. He wasn't sure if he felt pride or annoyance in learning this fun fact. "Yes, I suppose if what I feel is love than I do."

"Do you even know what romantic love feels like Sherlock?"

"Considering I have never felt it before, I would hazard a guess that I do not," he drawled with a rather bored tone.

John smiled, feeling like he had just won a prize. For once, on this glorious winter day, John knew more than the great Sherlock Holmes. Oh, he was going to enjoy this for as long as it lasted. "Love is not being able to get her off your mind. Thinking about her when you should be working or sleeping. Love is smiling when you hear her name, hear her laugh, and hear her voice. Love is wanting to see her safe, wanting to keep her safe. Love is talking about her when you don't have to. Love is feeling pride in knowing she stands beside you even when someone says she shouldn't. Love is the feeling you get when she touches you, when she kisses you, when your heart rate increases. Love is thinking she is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen whether she is dressed up or having just finished crying for an hour. Love is not wanting to let her go and wanting to take her problems as your own. That is love Sherlock."

That man thought about it. He did smile when he heard her name, granted it was a small smile or smirk. He did love her laugh and he enjoyed hearing her speak. He could listen to her for hours if he was honest with himself. She was the only one he didn't mind talking when he was trying to think. He wanted to see her safe, more importantly he felt the urge to KEEP her safe. He hadn't been able to get her off his mind, which while he had found annoying he found fascinating at the same time. He did talk about her a lot, or so most people say. He felt pride in dating her, in having her stand by him even while there were people like Anderson and Donovan who thought she was too good for him. Her touch made him shiver, set his whole body on fire. Her kisses were like a drug, one he wanted to mainline for the rest of his life. It gave him more of a high than anything he had tried in the past. And he did think her beautiful no matter what she wore or how she looked. He had seen her cry, he had seen her laugh, he had seen her dressed up and dressed down. He had taken her own problems on as his own, or so it would seem.

This was love according to John. But Sherlock wasn't sure.

"Love makes us weak," Sherlock said, wanting to get out of his mind, away from his thoughts.

John shook his head. "Love doesn't make us weak Sherlock. Love is what makes us strong. It gives the other person our heart, allows them the ability to make or break us. They can destroy us with a look, or a couple of words. The ability to bounce back from all of that is what makes us so strong. Look at Amber. She had been in love with her husband. She was left heartbroken after the divorce and more so after his death, yet here she stands so strong and willing to love you."

Sherlock didn't say anything. He just sat there once more rolling around those thoughts in his head. John was more skilled in the social aspects of life, he had long since accepted that. John was more skilled with woman, him having paraded women in and out of the flat before Megan had come into his life.

There was the sudden sound of laughter as the door downstairs was opened, the sound of a car horn blaring on Baker Street. He heard Amber shout out the door to the officer to take care for the night and if she needed anything to feel free and knock on her door. Then there was the sound of the front door shutting, the tell-tale noises of boots being kicked off and coats being shed and hung to dry on the rack Mrs. Hudson had set up at the beginning of winter.

Two pair of sock clad feet climbed the stairs. Two female figures came to stand in the door frame, both smiling, both clearly having ingested a minor amount of alcohol on their hen night dinner. Amber looked radiant, less worried, and more like the woman he had first met. Megan didn't look like she was about to snap at him, in fact she smiled in Sherlock's direction before striding in to sit on John's lap.

"Sherlock, I'm going to head downstairs and make some tea. Um," she wrung her hands nervously. "I know you probably have work to do or something like that but I was hoping we could go watch some telly. If you don't want to that's fine too," she rambled, likely caused by her alcohol consumption.

Never one to say no to her, at least he was finding that he couldn't, he nodded. Standing up, he watched her smile brighten as she reached out her hand for him to take. Lacing his fingers with hers, he felt his heart skip a beat at her touch. It was odd, feeling that little hitch in his heart and stomach. His mind once more traveled back to the concept of actually loving her. She lead him down the stairs and out of earshot of the couple still sitting in the living room of 221B, never actually knowing what Sherlock was thinking.

"They're so cute," Megan sighed out giving John a quick kiss before slipping off his lap. She headed for the kitchen, grabbing the pot of tea that John had made not more than ten minutes ago for himself and Sherlock.

"He loves her," he mentioned offhandedly.

Megan gasped, her cup and saucer clinking at they hit the counter and cracked. She hissed as the hot liquid splashed across her hand, leaving the flesh bright and fiery red. She hissed as she rushed to the sink and rinsed her hand under cold water. "What the hell? Are you kidding me?" she growled out the questions.

"Oh Megan, you've gone and gotten yourself burned. Why'd you do that? And you broke a cup," John exclaimed looking at the mess before him. He was more concerned with his injured girlfriend than that now broken cup and saucer.

"You just said that Sherlock loves Amber. Are you sure?"

"Well I'm not exactly sure he loves her, but I'm almost eighty percent sure he is."

Megan sighed, patted her hand dry with a nearby dish rag while John began to clean the mess she had made. "I suppose it doesn't hurt to say Amber is completely in love with him as well. Completely."

"They make a lovely, if not odd, match," John added as if to try to sooth the annoyance and worry in his girlfriend's voice. He had to admit he was a but nervous about the whole situation. Sherlock didn't understand love, viewed it as a weakness. To have him admit to actually loving Amber might have just pushed him to the point where he would end it if only to save himself as well as the redhead from any future harm.

"Odd covers Sherlock. Amber's a saint to deal with him."

John chuckled, making two cups of tea while Megan searched for the first aid kit which was stashed somewhere in the kitchen. "She's not a saint Meg. She's a normal person and to her so is Sherlock. She doesn't see him like we do and I don't think he even sees himself as we see him."

"I don't understand," she frowned, sitting at the table now slathering burn cream into her tender skin.

He sat a cup in front of her while taking a seat. "Amber doesn't see Sherlock as we do, meaning she overlooks his shortcomings because she cares for him. She doesn't let his rude remarks or rebukes effect her, in fact she shoots them right back at him from time to time. She doesn't mind his moods, she appears to flow with them, letting them roll right off her, and from time to time she pulls him out of them. She's a good match for him. A little bit of normal to his sociopathic tendencies while he add just enough sociopath to her normal."

Megan chuckled lightly. He was right, very right the more she thought about it. Opposites attract, was the old saying. Sherlock was like the night, one the side of angels but not an angel at all, a fallen angel more like it. Amber, well she was the day, an angel lifting Sherlock from the darkness and back into the light. They were so very good for one another yet they hadn't even realized it yet, they hadn't managed to see it. They had only been together for such a short period of time. Megan knew it would be months before they saw what was between them the way Megan and John did. For now they would just have to be content to watch the duo downstairs figure it all out.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Reviews are welcome!**

**A/N: See, I told you. It was a little bit fluffy but this topic will be brought up again, probably sooner than I think. Anyways, I just kind of wanted this chapter because it kinds of links to this one chapter I have written, that was supposed to originally be what I posted tonight. Sadly I have decided to add that one later, when I don't know but probably it'll be a chapter or two away. I want to space out the heavily emotional ones, especially since in the one originally supposed to be posted has a high emotion scene which seemed a little extreme for this point in the story. **

**Anyways, that was probably vague and I'll have all of you wondering what I meant by that and you all will start thinking and guessing and I really think I might have gotten your hopes up. So...yeah. I hope I haven't. **

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Remember I won't be updating again until next Sunday so until then my loves!**


	30. Chapter 28

Hello my lovelies! I usually give you all an update later in the day, usually around 11 PM my time but today I'm in the mood to update a little earlier. Before I move on to responses to reviews I just want to let you all know that apparently FF is having an issue with emails, I haven't received anything in the last several days from the site, which worried me because I am ALWAYS getting emails from FF. I hope this doesn't affect you all because I would hate for you to miss out on a chapter!

**CassiTTMMMSSPPJ:** Lol, fluff is one of my favorite things in the world, both writing and food kind.

**GoodNightAlaska:** Thank you so much. I'm glad you are enjoying the story thus far and I hope you continue to enjoy it! Yes, procrastinating, I am queen of procrastination be it with writing or school work. I plan on keeping writing so don't worry, procrastination has never stood in my way before!

**Empress of Verace:** You are more than welcome for the update and don't worry about the short response. I understand life can be hectic so even just a small review is more than enough to make me smile and shows that you enjoy this story enough to take the time, even if you don't have it, to leave me a little note. So thank you and enjoy the chapter!

**CarminaxBuranax:** Well, first off, I am a really fast typer. I am not kidding you! I also enjoy writing, it's a hobby and a form of stress release for me so I'm usually quite fast. Secondly, the last chapter proved to be hard for me to write. I wanted everyone to be in character but I wanted to show how everyone, especially Sherlock, was evolving emotionally because really that's what this story is about besides, well the everything else. Keeping characters in character is one of the hardest things for me so I'm happy I've managed to do so up until this point. Enjoy the chapter, like always I'm looking forward to hearing what you have to say.

**Gwilwillith:** Happy to hear you loved it, as always :) You'll find out what I have planned soon, well more like you'll see little by little but I'm hoping you enjoy it!

**Loki'sdreamer:** High emotion chapters are good and all but if you put too many back to back it can drain you, or at least me lol. I'm happy that you enjoyed the last chapter and that you thought it was sweet, that was my intention :)

**The Yoshinator:** Yep they've confessed, well mostly, to their friends. I wonder how they'll confess to each other?! Enjoy the update.

**bored411:** On a random note, I now understand what you're going through with your emails from FF. I'm not getting any now XD And to respond to your review: Thank you and I really hope you enjoy the next chapter, well all the chapters to come really lol.

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**[028]**

It was dark. It was so very dark. That didn't matter though, she had been stuck in the dark for so long now that it had become second to only the fear she felt. She didn't know how long she had been stuck there, didn't know how much time had passed since she had talked to or seen someone she knew. She missed her family, missed her friends, missed even her work and co-workers.

Brianna Devons missed her life. She missed being able to walk in the sun, in the rain, in the snow and wind, in the fresh air. She missed the fearless life she had lead, the work she had done, the conversations she had once had. She missed not having to live in shame and fear and darkness. She missed not jumping at the sound of a door opening, at the sound of footsteps.

She had lost count of the days, the weeks, and months in which she had been trapped. At first she had counted the days, marking them with her nails on the wall until her fingers had been covered in blood. She had then marked the days in her own blood. But the days turned to weeks, and before long those weeks had turned to months. Months of being beaten, slapped around, and raped.

At first she had cried, screamed, and even begged. By the third or fourth week she had given up with the begging, screaming and crying only when she was beaten bloody and violently assaulted. By this point she no longer screamed. She saw no point in screaming out for help when she knew no one was coming. This was how she was going to die, in a room of white, tied to a wall or bed half the time. She had accepted that a long time ago. The waiting was the hardest part, for she knew that one day her captor was going to walk into the room, use her and abuse her one last time, and finally end her suffering. At this point she even wished for the end.

She was just a waif of what she had been. Beaten and broken, used and abused. She was no longer the beautiful rose haired girl with stunning hazel eyes and a supple frame. She had been starved to the point where she could feel her ribs and barely hold herself up, she was that weak. Her hair had been cut numerous times over the time she had been held. Her once light colored skin was now mangled with bruises and cuts. Pain had turned into a constant companion. She wasn't sure how she would react if the pain were to be taken away.

Brianna supposed what hurt the worst was knowing that this man, a man she still had yet to figure out, was now targeting her sister. Taunting her through murders and cryptic packages sent through a third party. This man, someone she despised with every ounce of her soul would talk to her, while she was blindfolded of course. He would talk about his plans. How he wanted to have Amber tied up on the bed, naked, and spread for his entertainment. He told her of the things he wanted to do to her, would do to her. Some where so much worse that what Brianna herself had been through.

She was told what her sister was up to, that she was now living in London, working for New Scotland Yard, that she was dating a man named Sherlock Holmes and living with him. Granted that man had said Amber was 'fucking some famous idiot consulting detective named Sherlock Holmes'. She had hated hearing that vicious language used in association with her little sister. Amber was innocent, well as innocent as anyone could be in the world now a days.

Having said as much, she had only received a beating as payment for her outspoken statement. Brianna had long ago learned to keep her mouth shut, speaking had become so foreign she hadn't even realized she had lashed out verbally until after the first slap. But after that hit she had let a string of profanity fall from her lips as well as her opinions. It had hurt, but she would never regret the power she had felt in that moment causing him to become so angry and so uncontrolled. If she had learned anything from her little sister who had studied criminology, she had learned that an angry killer was a messy one.

The man had left after he had given her that beating, his fists most likely bloodied with her blood as well as his own. She had managed to bite, to snap, and to kick in her fury of hearing her sister spoken of like she was nothing but meat. He would leave something behind at a crime scene, he would get caught, she would be found.

She just hoped it wasn't to late for her. She knew Kelly was gone, she could remember hearing Kelly fight, remember the language, the taunts of her twin. She remembered hearing the slapping, the snarling, the vicious way in which her sister had fought with all her might. Kelly had always been a strong person, always willing to go head first into danger while Brianna herself would rather take a moment to think it through. Kelly had fought, and for that she had been killed.

Brianna could still hear the strangled groans, could still see her sister on her knees, the man's gloved hands around the delicate neck. She remembered seeing the glint of Kelly's engagement ring on her finger as she fell limply to the ground. She remembered the threat to keep quiet, to stay passive or else she too would face the same fate. That had been enough to keep her quiet, more passive than she had ever been in her normal life.

Thinking of Amber made her want to cry. Little Amber, with her bright red hair and sparkling green eyes. The girl who had lost so much. She could almost picture the girl having to identify Kelly's remains when they had been found. She knew Amber would have cried, would have screamed, would have demanded to be given proof that that was really her sister laying on the slab in the cold morgue. She would have reacted that way, she would have raged against the world.

She wondered if her little sister knew she was alive out there somewhere, suffering. She wondered if her sister was looking for her. She wondered, and she hated when she did, where the hell her sister was and why she hadn't shown up and saved her. She had been so angry at first, blamed her sister for the long amount of time she spent wherever the hell she was. Then she had gotten angry with herself, gotten mad that she would even think such a thing when she wasn't her sister's place to save her.

Brianna supposed, in a way, it was the thought of Amber that had kept her going. Not a boyfriend, not her aunt or uncle, not a friend, but her little sister. Just talking to Amber would always bring a smile to her face. She was the youngest, she hadn't suffered as bad following their parents death as the others had. She had adjusted easily, learned to deal with the grief and moved on. Then she had gotten married, lost her child, divorced and finally lost her husband. She had lost so much, to lose a sister and not know the fate of the other yet still be able to form a relationship meant she was so much stronger than anyone of their family had given her credit for in the past.

If she could, or ever got the chance to, she was going to hug Amber. She was going to call her every day, be there for birthdays and holidays, and never take her for granted again. That was if she ever managed to get the hell out of wherever she was.

The sound of a door opening had her flinching. "Close your eyes!" Demanded the voice of the man she had deemed Satan for the time being.

Doing as she was told she heard the sound of the small sliding peep hole being opened. That allowed him to see if she was doing as ordered or if she wasn't. It allowed him to keep from being seen by Brianna. She kept her eyes closed despite the urge to open them screaming in the back of her mind. She felt the cotton slide over her eyes, blocking her sight. The dark was another one of her companions.

"Call her," Satan growled out thrusting a mobile in her hand.

"I can't see to dial her number. I don't even know her number!" Brianna spoke, her voice so dry and unused she barely recognized it for a second. She doubted she would ever sound the same if she came out of this alive.

He growled in anger, grabbed the mobile harshly from her hand making her gasp in shock and pain. She heard the sound of him pressing numbers to dial a number. Her gut clenched when she understood that this man knew Amber's number. The mobile was pushed right back into her hand with the order to put the phone to her ear and talk.

Not wanting to be beaten or raped once more, she fumbled as she put the phone to her ear the best she could given the fact that she was chained to a wall at the moment. She could barely reach her hands down to her face.

She heard her sister's bright voice, light but stressed, answer the call. "Devons," it was a greeting of someone working for the police. "Hello?" She couldn't speak at first, couldn't believe after so long she was hearing Amber speak. She didn't want to ruin this, didn't want Amber to have to hear her in pain and misery. But if she didn't speak her fate was going to be worse than the suffering Amber was going to go through. As much as she didn't want to harm her sister in any kind of way, her sense of self preservation was starting to win over.

"Am—Amber," Brianna's voice finally stammered out.

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With a roll of her bare shoulders, Amber lumbered her way out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around her body. It didn't matter that she wasn't in her flat, it didn't matter that both Sherlock and John were in the living room along with a very amused Megan. Her hot water tank had busted the night before and she was in desperate need of a hot shower considering it had been snowing for the last day and a half.

So she didn't care that she was nearly buck naked walking through 221B on her way out and down to her flat. "Thanks for letting me barrow the shower. I'm having someone come fix it," she supplied as she lingered in the door frame for a moment longer than she probably should have. John refused to lift his gaze at the moment.

She made a mental note that Sherlock attempted to subtly shift his body weight while keeping his eyes averted from her towel clad body. It barely worked, his blue eyes kept flicking to her chest and down to her legs before his gaze traveled slowly up again. She had to give him credit for trying. It made her feel good, knowing he liked looking at her.

"My robe is there, please put it on," Sherlock's voice was dull but she could hear the tense undertones just there under the surface.

Amber, ever the one to oblige, reached lazily for his blue robe which was currently draped over the end of the couch Megan was sprawled across. She kept her eyes locked to Sherlock, ignoring the other two in the room as she slipped on the silky robe and tied it tightly around her middle. It was large on her smaller frame but she made it work. As a flourish, and to be a bit of a show off, she shimmed out of the towel she had on underneath and picked it up off the floor.

Sherlock watched in rapt fascination, while John and Megan laughed, as the redhead sashayed her way from the living room back to the bathroom to hang up the wet towel. She came back with her hair wrapped in a messy bun, a couple of damp locks escaped the confinement to fall around her face.

"Do you know who's coming to fix the heater?" John asked, trying to break the sexual tension swirling between his friends. "Has Lestrade run a background check?"

"Well, considering I still have to call someone to come fix it, no he hasn't ran a check yet. He'll be the first I call before actually making the appointment," Amber announced, none to excited that she actually had to have a handyman background checked.

Four days into the her forced holiday and things were looking just great.

"One of us, or all of us, will be there when the heater is fixed," Sherlock said, looking Amber in the eye as if daring her to say otherwise.

The redhead only responded by slapping Megan on the arm signaling she wanted to sit down on the couch. The brunette glared but shifted herself so she was curled on half the couch instead of the whole thing. Amber sat herself down, pulling her legs underneath her and smoothing out the end of the robe as if it were a dress. "One of you can be with me when the damned thing gets fixed. I don't need a whole party there to ensure I'm not going to be harmed," she almost snarled the last statement out. Having people following her around almost constantly was becoming a little bothersome and annoying.

John nodded his agreement, Megan snorted knowing her own boyfriend was lying, and Sherlock just kind of glared at her. He knew it was pointless to argue with her but he wasn't going to go down without some kind of silent fight. This had been the argument between the two of them since she had discovered the water heater broken the night before.

"One person Sherlock and if you aren't careful that one person is going to be John or Lestrade," she muttered to the consulting detective sitting there stoically while looking at her impassively. He wasn't conceding and neither was she. It would have been comical if it wasn't such a serious issue.

"Fine, one person and that will be me," Sherlock declared causing Amber to huff out a breath and roll her eyes at her incorrigible boyfriend.

"Fine," she sighed lightly before settling down into the couch more, content to just sit there even if she was in only a robe. Shame, well, she didn't have any at the moment. She was just enjoying the fact that Sherlock kept flicking his blue eyes in her direction before attempting to take his gaze somewhere else. It didn't last long, instead his eyes always landed back on her making her smile smugly. This just went to prove that Sherlock was just as much a man as John was.

"How's the flat faring with you being stuck in it?" Megan asked conversationally seeing that if someone didn't speak they were going to lapse into a very uncomfortable silence.

Amber chuckled lightly. "Lets just say that my flat is probably the cleanest in the whole of London. I've rearranged it, cleaned, vacuumed, mopped, scrubbed, and bleached every surface I could get my hands on. I organized my fridge and my closet is color coded! I'm even planning to reorganize my book shelves by genre and author. I'd say that should keep me busy for about five hours, nothing more. It's at least something I suppose." She gave a graceful lift of her shoulder.

"I'm sorry you're stuck on holiday. Have you tried talking to Lestrade about going back to work?" Megan inquired ignoring John's not-so-subtle use of coughing to try to stop his girlfriend's question. It didn't work, however.

Ignoring Sherlock's grumble of displeasure, Amber pushed ahead in her response, "I have talked to Lestrade. He refuses to allow me back to work until I am a hundred percent stable. He's worried I'm going to break down on a case, as if I would ever allow that to happen."

"You did break down though, at a scene," John prompted.

Amber's eyes narrowed. "No, I never actually broke down at the scene. I broke down after I had been at the scene and not because of what I had seen. Lestrade worries I will break BECAUSE of a crime rather than what happened after wards. I'm more than mentally stable enough to do my job but given the stress I've been under the whole department is worried I'm going to break, like I'm some kind of doll."

"They're worried is all," John was trying to smooth this over. He didn't want to upset her, she was on a short fuse as it was.

She nodded her understanding, her eyes no longer narrowed or angry. "I can understand about the worry, what I don't understand is why the hell I can't work." It was said with more bored annoyance than anger.

Before anyone could respond the sound of Amber's mobile going off caught their attention. The redhead frowned as she got off the couch and rushed to the bathroom. She looked at that number while walking into the kitchen once more. She didn't know the number but then again it could have been someone in the field who needed her help.

"Devons?" she answered as she went about putting water in the kettle, not the electric one. She was in the mood to hear a kettle whistle rather than hearing the beeping of an electric one. "Hello?" she questioned in confusion, wondering if maybe someone had called her number by accident.

"Am—Amber," a hesitant voice whispered from the other end of the phone. Though the voice was soft, Amber would have known it anywhere.

"Bri?" she questioned, her voice having hitched an octave in her distress. "Bri," she nearly sobbed this time. "Where are you?" she demanded softly, hearing the shuffle of footsteps coming from the living room. She could already hear Sherlock on his mobile calling Lestrade to have him trace her phone.

"Brianna, love, can you tell me where you are?"

"I—I don—don't know," the soft response came. "Ho—how long?"

"How long what?" Amber was trying not to cry, trying not to break down right there in the kitchen. Megan was now beside her, not touching her, but there nonetheless. John was arguing with Sherlock, the sound of Lestrade on speaker could be heard as well.

"How lo—ng have I been gone?" Her voice was now shaky, scared almost. Amber knew that the kidnapper was there in the room with Brianna. She felt her hands ball into fists as the anger coursed through her like a wildfire through a forest. She wanted to punch something, anything, but she knew it wouldn't help her any.

"Three years, love," she told her honestly. She wasn't about to lie to her sister, even if this was the last time she would hear her voice. "I'll get you back Bri. I promise I'm not going to lose you too. I know that the man doing this is listening right now, so if you can hear me I don't want you saying anything. I just want you to listen and listen well. There is no doubt in my mind that I will catch you. The only doubt I have is whether or not you're going to be brought in alive and in handcuffs or if you'll be dead and in a body bag. You are playing with the life of my sister. You are threatening me and mine and I WILL NOT allow this to continue on. So come after me and try your damnedest to get your hands on me. I promise it will be the last thing you ever do."

There was a maniacal laugh on the other end followed by the words 'I'd love to see that'. Then there was a click and her ear was greeted by the sound of a dial tone. It was then that Amber felt the weight of what had just occurred settle on her chest.

She landed ass first into a chair, her whole body shaking. Her phone was removed from her hand by John who promptly ordered Megan to pull the now whistling kettle off the stove and get a cold glass of water. She felt the glass being pushed into her hand and her hand carefully brought to her lips. She distinctly heard John tell her to drink before actually doing so. The shock of the water was enough to bring her back to reality and out of that gray zone she had found herself in for a moment.

She blinked rapidly, took a deep breath, and set the glass on the table after having pushed a petri dish out of the way. "Thanks," she whispered. "Where's Sher—"

"I need the number of the phone that just called you," Sherlock demanded, his own mobile pressed firmly to his ear. His face was set in a stony glare, not so much directed at anyone of them in particular in the room but more about the fact that he COULD not control this. A phone call was different than a box delivered to the front door or photographs handed to her outside a crime scene.

Amber read out the number from memory, shocking John and Megan at how good her mind was. Megan knew her friend had what some would call an eidetic memory but seeing it first hand came as an eye opening moment. "I didn't know the number," Amber rambled. "I thought...I thought that maybe it was someone from the Yard, someone knew who had gotten a hold of my number. I didn't think, I just...kind of answered."

She reached a shaking hand out for the glass only to knock it over. "Damn it," she cursed and followed it by apologizing over and over. Sherlock rather roughly pushed her back into her chair when she started to get up to clean the mess. She locked her now angry eyes with his only to see worry in the blue depths she had come to love so much. That look in his eyes was enough to clamp her mouth shut before snapping at him. She understood he didn't do good when she freaked out. The last time she had freaked out on him he had to shove her head between her knees.

"Megan and John can handle the mess," Sherlock muttered softly, offering her his free hand. His other hand was occupied with his mobile still at his ear. She figured he was hold while Lestrade tried to see if he could trace the number. She knew he wouldn't find anything, the phone had more than likely been a prepaid throwaway.

Taking that hand he held out, she was lead from the kitchen to the living room where he sat down on the couch and pulled her down with him. She landed right beside him, tucked tightly under his arm and into his side, a place she loved to be. She snuggled deeper into him which allowed his arm to slip down behind her back to wrap around and settle on her hip where his thumb began to rub soothing circles.

Tucked there, safe and sound against Sherlock, Amber allowed herself to cry. She turned her head into his chest, her tears falling freely to soak into the shirt he was wearing. She didn't sob as she had the past couple of times she had broken down, she didn't rage or scream or hit him. She simply cried softly for the loss and pain she was feeling. Her sister, the only sibling she had left, was alive and suffering. She could do nothing while she too suffered on a less violent level.

The pain she had heard in her sister's voice when she had been talking, it had nearly brought her to her knees. That voice, a voice which had once been so full of bubbly life and joy sounded so broken and so soft. Brianna had never been soft spoken, always been loud and out there with such a thirst for life. She knew, God did she know, that Bri would never be the same when they got her back. There were so many pieces the girl was going to have to pick up, so many things she was going to have to deal with. She just hoped that there was a small part of Brianna left and she prayed that small part was going to fight. Fight harder than she had ever fought before.

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In that dark, dank, little room, Brianna sat there with a new bruise forming on her face. She didn't cry, she didn't scream, she didn't pray for her own death. No, tonight she smiled because she knew Amber was looking for her. Amber, the tiger of the family, the one who never let anything go, the one who remembered everything. She wasn't going to stop until Brianna was safe at home. This made her smile, the first real smile she had smiled in three long years.

The man watched her through the peep hole, confused as to why the once beautiful redhead was smiling. The smile made him uneasy.

He didn't know what he was in for.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Reviews are welcome!**

**A/N: So what did you think of the chapter? A little bit of plot development and Amber not-so-subtly taunting/flirting with Sherlock. We'll see a bit more of that soon enough as well as the reemergence of Sassy Amber. **

**Anyways, I just want to give you another heads up that my life is about to get a little hectic. I'm on the hunt for a job as well as getting ready to do volunteer hours. I'm currently going to be attempting to get into Georgetown University for fall 2014 after graduating from my community college. It's a lengthy process so I'm hoping to keep my update schedule on Sundays since I'm several chapters ahead now but I just wanted to let you know that if for some reason I don't update on time there is a really good reason. **

**Thank you all for understanding! **

**Until next time my loves! **


	31. Chapter 29

_Hello my lovelies. I am back once more with a new chapter! It is amazing that in little over a month this story has been going for a year. I have a little something planned for the anniversary of this story. If you can guess it right I'll dedicate the chapter to you!_

_Okay onto the show. This chapter is more of a filler to move the story along. I also want to mention that I have about 10-12 more chapters planned for this story. I've already gotten ideas for how to start the sequel._

**_skycord1990: _**_Here is the update, hope you enjoy it!_

**_Protagonist Of Life: _**_Oh trust me, her kidnapper is going to get what's coming to him. Not going to say what happens but I'm sure you all will be happy with the outcome. Oh and I LOVE your penname! _

**_Twilighterheart xxxx: _**_Well here is your more my dear. I think everyone reading this story agrees with you on the loing Sherlock front ;)_

**_Empress of Verace:_**_ A flustered Sherlock, well lets just say he's incredibly__ fun to write. Brianna is a lovely Gaelic name meaning 'strong'. I think it fits perfectly don't you considering Amber and Bri are Scottish and well given Bri's current circumstances...you see where I'm going with that. Her captor will get a not-cool ending, though again I'm not saying what. Now, like I said before, don't worry about writing a long review that's not important. Just try to concentrate on getting through all the things you've got to deal with, if you ever need to talk feel free to PM me! Enjoy the update!_

**_TheGirlWhoImagined:_**_ Hello there! I am so happy to hear you are enjoying the plot developments. I've been worried I might be moving too fast but I think I've found a good balance in the pace. You'll get the answer to how Amber reacts in this chapter as well as the next, they kind of go hand in hand. Can't wait to hear what you think of this chapter!_

**_The Yoshinator: _**_I think I actually had to stop writing the scene for Bri because I was getting upset writing it. I almost cried, I feel bad for abusing my characters in such a manner XD. Enjoy the update!_

**_DexySixx: _**_Hm, will it be Amber who kicks the killer's ass or will it be someone else? Well you'll have to wait and see! *evil laugh* Hope you enjoy this chapter._

**_bored411: _**_You've still got a bit to wait until you find out what happens to the bastard but I hope you enjoy all the chapters until we get to that point._

**_Gwilwillith: _**_A dark chapter was what I was going for seeing as we're getting into the home stretch. Really? Could a feisty Amber save the world? It would be a nice sight to see her try. Enjoy the chapter!_

**_CassiTTMMMSSPPJ:_**_ No you were not the only one not getting emails from FF. Sometimes it happens I guess. I'm glad you liked the last chapter and I hope you like this one._

**_Loki'sdreamer: _**_Dramatic was what I was aiming for ;) Enjoy!_

**_CarminaxBuranax: _**_Hey there, well you're computer isn't letting you review and mind won't let me send out PM's at the moment. So I'm answering your PM/Review this way. Thank you for the compliments__ on the last chapter. I'm so glad that Brianna is as developed as Amber's, I was aiming for that and I'm glad I managed to do it. As for hearing that your adrenaline was pumping because of the chapter, well that just makes me so happy to hear! Now, do you mean there better be an apology from the killer at the end of the story or from me since I'm the one causing the character so much pain? Because trust me I hate to terrorize my characters even if they are my own creations lol! Enjoy the chapter and as always I'm looking forward to hearing from you!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock! I own Amber, Megan, and Bri at this point. And just so you know I HATE making them suffer XD Anyways, I own the plot as well. Anything you recognize I do not own. Everything else I do! _

_Enjoy!_

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**[029]**

Dressed in her best pair of jeans, a flowing blouse, and a pair of her favorite flats, Amber sat with her legs crossed in the office of Dr. Latimer. This time around the session was self made rather than work appointed. She hadn't exactly known why she had the made the appointment. No had forced her or told her it might be a good idea. No, she had picked up the phone in the few minutes she had finally managed to slip free of her watchers, as she had begun to call all those looking out for her, and she had called Dr. Ronda Latimer. She wanted to talk, and not to those close to her. That was odd, wanting to talk to someone she didn't know well. Now here she sat, a little more uncomfortable than she thought she would have been.

"How are you today Amber?" the doctor asked gently, looking at the redhead who was currently fiddling with her fingers in her lap. Latimer noted that her nails were unpainted, an unusual thing because they had always been painted in the past, and were now chewed to the quick. Her eyes were wider than normal and blood shot. Her skin was pale, chalky almost with dark bruises under her tired eyes. Her hair was bundled into a messy bun on the back of her head, contradicting her proper appearance. She felt sorry for the woman, for the things she was suffering, and the heartbreak she was going through. She hated seeing people, particularly her patients, suffering in such a manner.

Amber blinked, having been in her own mind for a couple of moments. She shook her head slightly to clear the webs inside. "I'm...well I'm not sure how I am. Confused," she ran a hand through over her hair, a habit she had when she was nervous. "Pissed off and angry. I want to cry but I want to punch something at the same time. Came close to it this morning, I almost hit Sherlock in frustration." She sighed finally rubbing her hand over her face. She had choosen to wear contacts and she was happy with that decision.

"Is physical harm what you usually resort to when angry?" It was often a side effect of high stress situations that would bring on a violent urge, at least that's what Latimer had learned over the years.

"No!" Amber hissed dangerously. "I never hit! I've never hit anyone in my life if it wasn't playful. But," she took a deep shudering breath. "I feel so lost, like I have no control and I know I don't. I just...it makes me so angry and scared. The only way I feel I can control the situation is to hit something because hitting someone is under my control, I choose to hit someone. It's not something someone can force me to do."

The doctor nodded lightly, completely understand where the younger woman was coming from. "We all strive for control in our lives and whenever that control is taken away, we lash out."

"Usually I just scream or pout or ramble until I can gain that control back. I've always managed to gain control again. But this wanting to hit someone or something is completely new to me and I really don't like it."

"That's understandable. You aren't a violent person by nature, at least from what I can tell," the younger woman gave a nod. "Have you thought about what exactly, besides the control thing, might have you wanting to lash out violently at the people and things around you?"

The redhead furrowed her brow and bit her lip in thought. After a minute of silence she finaly spoke, "I haven't thought about it beyond not being in control."

"Could it possibly be because you are, in a minor way, being harmed? Someone you grew up with and love is being hurt and you want to, in turn, hurt the person harming her?" Latimer suggested as she recrossed her legs.

"I suppose, on a level it is. I do...I really want to hurt this man. I even promised to do so when he had Brianna call me," she blurted out.

"This man called you?" The other woman was shocked. She hadn't heard this from Lestrade.

Amber nodded. "Yes, this morning when I was relaxing with Sherlock, Meg, and John. My mobile rang. I didn't know the number and answered it out of habit. It wasn't so much the suspect calling as it was Bri. However, I believe he forced her to call me."

"How did the call make you feel?" Typical question but it was a good one to ask.

She bit at her lip once again, this time harder before she wrung her wrists in nervousness. "Shocked, scared, angry, and violent," she admitted almost timidly. "Scared mostly though. This man has my number. He knows where I live and he can contact me whenever he wants to. I thought about getting a new number but then I'd have to relearn it and give it out to everyone who needs it. I'm starting to feel trapped here. I'm followed around by people twenty four seven. Sherlock has basically moved into my flat for the time being and Meg spends more time at John's flat than she does at her own. Mrs. Hudson is always just 'checking in on me'. I love having people close to me if I need them but everytime I turn around I'm running into someone and it's become bothersome." She wanted to rub at her face again but resisted the urge.

"Have you told anyone about how you're feeling?"

"I've...well...no. I just...I understand they just want me safe. They want to make sure nothing happens to me, considering we believe this man is connected to the murders Lestrade and Sherlock have been investigating. I get it, but," she hesiated, not sure what to say next. "I don't think they know that I need space and I'm scared if I tell them how I feel they're going to be upset."

"They are you're family and friends. Sherlock is your significant other," she refrained from using the term boyfriend, knowng Amber wasn't overly fond of the term itself. When speaking of Sherlock Holmes, significant other worked better than boyfriend anyways. "They will understand that you need some space, even if it is only for an hour or so to take a long soak in the bath or to read a book."

"Hot water tank busted the other night so a bath is out." Amber couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped her lips when thinking about the heater. "And I'm currently completely out of books to read."

"Why is that?"

Amber snorted knowing that was a lie if ever she heard one. "I'm on holiday or didn't Lestrade tell you?" she questioned sarcastically.

"He might have mentioned it in passing but I wasn't aware you were still off of work."

With a roll of her eyes, Amber sighed and leaned back in her chair. "I've been off for nearly five days now. I'm going mad. Between the snow, the constant watching, and the fact that I have nothing to do, I have literally redone my whole flat."

Latimer scribbled that lovely little fact down in her notebook: 'like to clean when bored'. "Have you given thought to what everyone else is going through while this is happening?"

The girl now rose a brow at the doctor, a little bit of anger rising into her cheeks. "I have given it A LOT of thought over the last several weeks. I think about it every day, about how this situation is harming my friends, the man I love, and my work. I worry that one of them are going to get hurt, or worse, killed. I just...worry all the damned time," she huffed out closing her eyes and taking a deep breath to keep from crying as her original anger drained from her body. There was no use being angry when there really was no reason to be so.

Latimer nodded, thankful that she wasn't self absorbed like some of her other patients tended to be. While the situation revolved around Amber, she didn't THINK about it that way. She was a caring girl, that was evident in the way she spoke and acted. The fact that she had risked herself to catch a killer by going to a gala as an undercover officer as well as was willing to work while dealing with her own stalker and a missing sibling, showed her alltrusitic tendences.

"Worrying is good but talking would be better. I'm sure Megan and John would talk to you as well as Sherlock. You might want to plan some time to sit down with each of them and try to express how you feel and to get their feelings on the subject while you're at it."

Amber had thought about doing just that. She'd been out with Megan a few days ago but their conversation hadn't turned in that direction. Neither of them had wanted to speak about what was going on, they just wanted to share some girl time and reconnect. She talked to Sherlock, or tried to talk to him, but half the time he would direct the conversation to other things, such as books or the telly or even how her aunt and uncle were doing. She knew it was his way of keeping her from thinking to much about what was going on. John, well she hadn't managed to spend any time with John since the morning he had escorted her to work a week ago. They spoke and saw one another yes, but someone was always with them and Amber figured it wasn't proper to speak of private matters such as feelings about a stalker when someone was around, even if that somone was Sherlock or Megan.

Then there was Mrs. Hudson, the only one of those she happened to be close to that she had managed to get to sit down and talk just a bit about how she was dealing with all this. Much to the younger woman's surprised, this wasn't the worst she had faced with Sherlock living above her. She's been thrown about a bit a couple of months before Sherlock had faked his death. Of course Sherlock had thrown the man from the window. She'd had the front of the building exploded and Amber's currently apartment had been broken into by Moriarty just to taunt Sherlock. That had all come as a shocking surprise to the redhead but it made her feel just that much better. At least this wasn't doing too much damange to her older landlady. She'd have felt terrible if it had.

"I can try to talk to them, but I don't know how to breech the subject. I don't want to just blurt out the questions because that is rude and these are my friends," there was a hint of embarrassment there as she realized she had no idea how to actually talk to her friends about this. Talking to Megan about falling for Sherlock was one thing, but asking the other girl how she felt about her best friend being stalked was something different altogether.

Latimer gave a soft smile. "Sit them down, explain to them about how you are feeling. Remember I mentioned that you should talk about what you're feeling?" Amber nodded. "Then follow that up by asking how they are coping with all this that is going on. You can be sure to get an answer that way."

"Because if I spill my soul they'll feel obliged to do that same with theirs," Amber smirked a little bit wickedly.

Even though Amber seemed a little bit excited that she had basically just described blackmail in a sense, Latimer couldn't help but smile wider seeing Amber look less meek and fearful than when she had come in. "I guess if you want to look at it that way. It's like a trade of information except you're the winner. You'll be letting them know your feelings on being followed around constantly and that you need a little bit of space as well as learning how they are faring with this."

"They aren't winning much though." Amber still had a hint of a grin on her face. "I kind of like that."

"It gives you a sense of control, at least for the time being. It might help you balance out the anger and violent urges you sometimes feel."

"Right.," Amber agreed but doubted that it would.

"Now, how are you coping without working?" Latimer changed the topic, seeing she wasn't getting anywhere else with the other one. She watched as Amber's smile dropped a couple of degrees but stayed on her face. That was a good sign.

"I miss my work to be honest. I never knew how much I loved it until I'm forced not to be there every day. I just miss the activity and the uncertainity or whether or not I'll be in my office most of the day or if I'll be in the field. I never realized how boring life was without work." She wasn't lying, she was utterly bored at home.

"You love what you do, that's a good sign considering the job that you do."

Amber actually grinned now. "Everyone says that. They worry for my sanity as if being at a crime scene is going to turn me into a killer or something. That is never going to happen. It's like when people talk about Sherlock taking pleasure in solving the cases he works. They believed, or rather believe, that one day he will commit a crime just because he can and because he's bored. I don't believe it. He prefers to solve not create. I prefer to help rather than hinder."

"Lovely way to look at it."

"I help people. I might only take photographs but what I do helps to find those people who have harmed others. I like that. I like helping even if I am exposed to things I would rather not have to see in my waking hours and my dreams."

A question Latimer hadn't bothered to ask before popped into her mind. It was a normal question, one she often asked of people in high stress work conditions like Amber but she had never thought to ask until right that moment. "How do you usually deal with the stress of your work?"

Amber cocked her head to the side. "How do you mean?"

"Like what do you do to reduce the stress associated with your job? Hobbies or things like that?" Latimer explained, pen at the ready.

The younger woman didn't even have to think before she answered. "Running. I run, quite often."

"A healthy choice. When did you start running?"

"I was thirteen. Brianna and Kelly always ran, they were in track and field when in school." Amber smiled at the memory and thought of her sisters. "One morning during summer break I was up early. I was getting ready to make breakfast for myself when my sisters walked down the stairs dressed for their daily run. I was curious and asked if they would mind if I tagged along. At first they laughed at me, saying I wouldn't be able to keep up on the ten kilometer trek they did." At the odd look from the doctor, Amber laughed. "Round trip," she elaborated. "Well, as a thirteen year old girl I took that as a dare of sorts. I managed to keep up for the most part, I lagged behind a bit because I was shorter at the time but I kept a good pace. I guess I've been running ever since."

"At thirteen you were fit enough to run ten kilometers?"

"Before my parents died they had all of us in some kind of martial arts or sports program. When I lived with my aunt and uncle they kept up the same thing. When my siblings were older they went into different sports while I kept with martial arts until I started in on track like my sisters. I was an active child." Amber was proud of that.

Latimer nodded scribbling down 'active runner' onto her notepad. "What else do you do to relax besides run?"

"I read, probably more than the average person does in a year. If I'm really stressed I'll cook or bake. I don't drink when I'm stressed, at least not overly so. A glass of wine sometimes takes the edge off. I no longer smoke, which considering I'm a runner is kind of mad really when I think about it. Smoking and running usually don't work together." She scartched at the back of her head because when she had been smoking she hadn't thought it was odd.

"Are those hobbies helping with the stress now?"

Amber shook her head slightly, barely noticed if not for the hawk-like eyes of the therapist who had been doing her job for almost a decade. "They help to an extent."

"Meaning..." Latimer urged lightly knowing she had to push a bit sometimes when it came to talking with Amber Devons.

The redhead sighed slightly, "They help a little bit. For example, I start reading a book but I might get to a part that somehow I relate to and then I'm sitting there thinking about everything all over again. I might be cooking, and it is all good while I'm making the food or mixing ingredients for a cake or cookies or whatever I'm baking. But once that's done and I'm left without something in my mind to think about, I get sucked back into my thoughts once again. And with cleaning, well there's nothing for me to do mentally so I start to think and thinking leads to a moment of madness and then I'm back in square one again. I can't forget, I've tried but my mind doesn't let me." She pulled the pins holding her curls up and off her face. She ran her hand through her hair once it was free.

"Yes," the doctor looked at her file. "It says you've got what professionals call an ediatic memory. It must be hard."

Amber nodded slowly. "Not many people know of my memory. I try not to let it be known that I have this particular..." she stopped for a moment, thinking of a proper word for it. "Talent, if you will. Sherlock doesn't even know. I think he has an inkling of how good my memory is but he's is still in the dark for the most part."

"This memory of your is what causes you the most of the stress right now, correct?"

"No, it isn't. The stress I'm feeling now isn't about what I remember. I'm constantly under stress."

"I can understand that. Now, back to stress relief, do you believe work would help you to get your mind off everything?" Latimer hadn't wanted to ask the questions, but Lestrade had told her it was vital that she get the answer.

"Because I'd love if I was able to go back to work I want to say that yes it does but on the other hand I know that's a lie. It doesn't always help, sometimes it makes it worse. The things I've seen, it makes me realize that Brianna is out there somewhere suffered and then I'm forced to remember that I too am a victim because everyone I know is looking at me in pity. It's a reminder every day. However, it keeps me going, that reminder." She rambled, not really realizing she was talking more than she originally intended to on the subject. It felt good to just talk for once and have somone just listen.

"How so?" The therapist tilted her head to the side this time. She knew why it kept Amber going but she wanted to hear it from the girl herself.

"It keeps me going because it reminds me that as long as I'm working this type of job I have the chance to find her, to find Bri and bring her back alive. That reminder that she's out there suffering is enough to help me plow through the things I see."

Latimer nodded, seeing the strength Lestrade said was there but also seeing the fragileness hiding just behind that facade of strength. The girl was suffering but she was dealing. Most people would have broken at this point, she had seen it happen so many times before. It took a very determined person to keep their head held up high after having been put through so many trials in such a short period of time.

The doctor knew it was because she had a support system. Amber had Megan, John, Sherlock, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson. She had such a strong group of people holding her up. She had talked about them before, how they kept her stable and grounded even when she was just an inch away from the edge. If not for that group, if Amber was going this alone or even with one less person than she had, she wouldn't be where she was today. She'd be a broken mess, holed in her flat, and locked away from the world. She might not have even been there at all if it hadn't of been for her friends.

"Our hour is up," Amber mumbled having looked at her watch while the therapist had been deep in thought. She couldn't believe that an hour had flown by without her even realizing it.

"So I see," Latimer nodded at the clock on the wall. "Will I see you again on your own free will or will the next visit before forced?" She chuckled lightly, this had become a running joke between the two. If Amber wasn't making an appointment on her own, Lestrade was setting it up for her without her actually knowing about it.

Amber gave a small grin and a laugh. "I believe I'll make an appointment for next week, just encase something turns up. If not, we'll see if I'm forced or not." She stood up slipping into her coat. She tossed her purse over her shoulder carefully. "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice," she held out her hand for the doctor to shake.

Latimer griped the younger woman's hand lightly. "It was an emergency for all intents and purposes. It was nice speaking with you again."

"Like wise," Amber actually nodded her agreement.

The doctor gave a teasing smile. "This might be completely unprofessional of me to state but I remember a time not to long ago when you hated the idea of speaking with me."

"Oh," Amber laughed brightly. "I still hate speaking with you but I've learned there are worse things out there that can happen than having to talk to a therapist. You aren't half bad."

"Well I thank you for that. Good luck with the rest of the week."

"Thanks." Amber walked away leaving the doctor in her door frame. It wasn't until she had made it to the stairwell that she gave a shuddering breath that ended with a sob.

000000000000000

Sherlock had brought Amber to the Yard, after a short battle of wills of course. He hadn't wanted her to leave the building, saying it was too risky to leave when the killer could have been anywhere at that point. Amber had thrown out the fact that there were armed police officers watching for anything out of the ordinary. In the end Amber had won the argument and dragged Sherlock out the front door after quickly changing.

She hadn't told him WHY she had wanted to go to the Yard, she wasn't allowed to work after all, but he had deduced that she was seeing that therapist once again. He didn't actually apporve, seeing therapists as a waste of time and money in his opinion, but he figued if it helped Amber deal with everything she was going through he would keep his mouth shut for once in his life.

So he had given her a soft kiss before exiting the lift to go talk to Lestrade about the phone call that morning. He had watched her smile fade from her face as the doors to the lift closed behind him leaving her alone inside. In that split second seeing those doors closing he saw a flash of fear in her eyes. He had felt a twinge of guilt at having left her alone, even in a building full of police personnel he didn't feel as if it had been right letting her go on her own when she was still so shaken. It felt odd, feeling guilt. Guilt, like most other emotions, were not part of his life and feeling it left him more than a little uncomfortable.

He had tried to shake the feeling, the urge to run up the stairs to Amber, because he didn't like the feeling. He wondered for a moment if that feeling was how normal men felt when it came to the woman they cared about. The urge to be there, the urge to make sure that nothing happened. The urge to make sure they didn't suffer alone.

With a silent growl, he rushed to Lestrade's office where he found that man on the phone. He held up a finger, the universal sign for 'give me a minute'. Sherlock's brows furrowed in annoyance as he sighed loudly and flopped himself unceremoniously into a chair. He tapped his fingers on the arm glaring at the older man in front of him.

Eventually the man did put down the phone, forty five minutes later, rubbed his face harshly, and looked pointedly at Sherlock. "Yes?" he inquired dryly.

"You know why I'm here," Sherlock said just as dryly with a level gaze on Lestrade. It was a dare to the other man to tell him he didn't.

Lestrade sighed, rubbed his face again, and looked once more at the consulting detective in front of him. "We couldn't get a trace on the number that called Amber. We tried, but the phone was one of those disposable ones which are nearly impossible to trace." He hated giving the man this kind of information. They were getting nowhere, but they now knew that Brianna Devons was alive. He worried that the woman wouldn't stay that way for long if they didnt find the man responsible for this soon. If Amber, knowing she was so close to getting her sister back, were to lose Brianna she was not going to be the same.

"Then, as Megan would say, we are back at square one," Sherlock growled audibly this time around.

The DI shook his head. "No, we are not. We now know that Brianna is alive. She is being held somewhere within the city because the number was from London. We might not be able to trace him but we are a step closer." Sherlock just rolled his eyes but Lestrade ignored him. "How is Amber faring with all this?" Changing the topic was the best way to go at the moment.

"I believe she overly stressed," he stated matteroffactly.

"I would expect so," Lestrade sarcastically responded. "We're suffering without her here."

"She's a photographer, how can you suffer?" Sherlock asked. He wasn't being rude, just simply asking because he didn't understand.

"It isn't my photographing skills they enjoy, it's the fact that I'm legally allowed at a crime scene to help solve said crimes. He breaks all the rules when bringing you in. I'm just as good as you and they can actually use me," Amber announced as she walked into the office. She kissed Sherlock lightly on the lips before he could say anything about her remark and sat herself in the seat beside him. She would have sat on his lap, she really wanted to just cuddle, but they were in an office where everyone could see. It was highly inapporprate.

Sherlock smiled lightly to her, reaching out to take her hand seeing that she was shaking just ever so slightly. Her eyes were a little red rimmed, her bottom lip was swollen from where she had been chewing on it. He even caught sight of new blood forming just around one of her freshly chewed finger nails. She was an emotional mess but she was holding it together the best she could. He admired that about her. "He can never solve a case without me."

"Hush, you're so full of yourself," Amber teased lightly, sighing contentedly when Sherlock's thumb rubbed lightly across the back of her hand in soothing circles. "What he's saying is he can't solve cases without me, not you. You aren't needed." Beneath the sadness in her eyes he caught a twinkle just barely visible.

Sherlock's brow rose, "Are you teasing me?"

"I would never do anything of the sort," she fluttered her eyelashes at him.

Sherlock knew what she was doing, flirting and teasing, and he realized he was doing the same right back. He knew that she was trying to take her mind off everything and if teasing and taunting him worked he would gladly play along. It was better than having to hear her cry.

"I've worked with Lestrade far longer than you have," he countered lightly.

"And yet I've helped solve more cases than you have." She cocked a brow now, waiting to see what he was going to say next.

"I work for myself as well," he pointed out. "Therefore I've solved more cases than you have."

Amber rolled her eyes playfully, fully aware that Lestrade was staring at them as if they were mutated aliens instead of two very intelligent people completely wrapped up in each other. "That might be, love, but I've still solved more than you have with the police. I think that means I win this." Sherlock didn't counter that just sighed in mock defeat. This teasing session wasn't over, not by a long shot. "Thought so," she chuckled as she looked at Lestrade. "So what do I do now?"

"You've got a little over a week left of your holiday, my advice would be to just try to relax and rest as much as you can. This case is top priority. I promise you Amber this will end in the best way possible." By the best way possible he meant bringing Brianna back alive and locking the bastard doing this away for life.

Amber tried to smile at the older man's words but she just couldn't do it. Instead she just stood up with a slight frown, her eyes screaming the sadness within her that little spark having faded the moment she stopped teasing Sherlock. "I hope so Lestrade. I really hope so," she whispered lightly before looking to Sherlock from the door frame. "Take me home?" she questioned though she already knew he would. There was never a need to ask. He nodded gracefully and joined her just outside Lestrade's office.

Lestrade looked at the couple before him. More than six months ago it was believed that Sherlock was dead. Now, staring at him holding the hand of that pretty little redhead, the man who had never believed Sherlock had faked anything in his career couldn't help but be happy that the consulting detective was back. They made a very handsome couple. "I'll call if anything turns up Sherlock," he said earning a slight wave of the hand from Sherlock.

The couple walked away, people watching in awe and curiosity. In the lift, finally alone, Amber hugged Sherlock tightly. She buried her face into his chest, the weight of the day slowly crashing down onto her shoulders. He wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on the crown on her head lightly. She needed the comfort, wanted it so badly and he gave it too her. He didn't know what was in store now that things had become more complicated, but he'd see it through to the end, because he couldn't imagine a day when he would walk through the door of 221B and not see Amberlyn Devons standing there waiting for him.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Reviews are welcome!**

**A/N: So tell me what you think. I love hearing from all of you as always. And because I'm so excited to tell everyone, well on Wednesday my dad found two kittens where he works. He brought both of them home, one for me and one for my brother. I now have a lovely little female kitten named Ozwin(can you guess where the name came from, aside from the spelling that is?) She is adorable and I'm praying the my 4 year old Husky, Zeeva, will take to her. She tends to view cats as play things XD **

**Okay enough about my new kitty. So, like I stated at the beginning of the chapter, in about a month this story has been going for a year. If you can hazard a guess at what my little surprise for the chapter that week might be I will dedicate the chapter to you (even if there are more that one of you who guess right) You won't know until you read that chapter if you're right or not though!**

**Okay, until next time my loves!**


	32. Chapter 30

_Hello there my lovelies! Welcome back to 'Breaking the Barrier'. Today's installment involves...well you'll have to read and find out. I'm posting this a little early, basically at midnight Sunday morning, but I figured since I'll be busy all day with cleaning, writing, beta-ing, and taking care of kittens I thought it would be nice to treat you all to this now instead of waiting until really really late Sunday, or early Monday, whichever it would have been._

_**Empress of Verace:** Latimer is a character who is meant to be liked as time goes on. We may or may not see more of her in the future. Yay, it was intended to be hilarious, making Sherlock wait to talk to Lestrade. I mean if Lestrade can't outsmart Sherlock he's got to do something to annoy the man right? And on a different note, I'm happy to hear that things are getting a little better. I'm always happy to get your reviews be them short or long! Enjoy the chapter!_

_**CarminaxBuranax:** Thank you for pointing out that one paragraph at the beginning of the chapter. I was struggling with it, thinking that yes it was important and then no it's kind of repetitive. I left it in anyways. I have no idea what to say to how you explained my writing style other than THANK YOU SO MUCH. I was so happy reading that part. And of course there will be some action packed, cliff-hanger type chapters. Enjoy the chapter, looking forward to hearing from you :)_

_**ladymoonscar:** Have patient, the story will get there. Sorry if it feels like it's dragging or something like that. I hope you stick around and read the rest!_

_**Gwilwillith:** Amberlock! I love it! Enjoy the chapter, and the bit of fluff that is in this chapter!_

_**The Yoshinator:** Trust me I want to hug Amber too, sadly I must torture her for the sake of this story. She won't always be psychologically tortured as she is right now, at least I don't think she will be. Enjoy the update!_

_**Loki'sdreamer:** There will be more of how she feels in the following couple of chapters. Enjoy!_

_**bored411:** I'm glad you liked the chapter and I hope you like this one!_

_**Protagonist Of Life:** I love the name Amberlyn and it kinds of fits the character. Enjoy the chapter!_

_Enjoy the chapter as always! _

_Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or anything you recognize from the show, everything else...well I do own. That includes Amber, Megan, and the plot._

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**[030]**

Sherlock sat in Amber's living room, laptop on the table in front of him, some random talk show playing on the telly. For the last three hours he hadn't managed to get any work done. For the last three hours he had sat there listening to Amber toss and turn in her bedroom down the hall. He could hear her sighs, the sound of the blankets rustling quite loudly, and the thunk of her headboard hitting the wall every time she shifted rather violently or suddenly.

It was distracting, the noises she made, more distracting than John ranting about needing milk or one of the experiments in the fridge and microwave. While he could ignore the things John went on about, hearing Amber so distressed as she tried fruitlessly to get some sleep could not so easily be tuned out. It didn't matter how he tried, every noise that came through from beyond that door met his ears causing him to look down the hall.

He didn't know when it became that way, when everything she did was noticed whether he was paying complete attention or no attention to her at all. It had to be somewhere between her standing there in the door frame of his kitchen that morning in October and when she had been drugged after being injured in November. Somewhere in that month she had broken through every well constructed barrier he had built to keep himself from social interaction and actual emotions. He hadn't realized that until this moment, hearing her struggle with sleeping.

It actually tugged at his heart, a first that was for sure, and it had caused him three hours of misery and annoyance while trying to do some form of research for his current cases. Now that they were connected, the skinnings and Amber's stalker not only through the blood but the phone call, he could try to find some sort of link between the victims and Amber and her family. He could find out why this was going on. He was hoping that he could find something, anything, that could help catch this man since the phone call had been a waste of time, from an investigation stand point that was. If he could find this man then this would be over, Amber wouldn't be so emotionally vulnerable, and their lives could got back to normal, like it had been not more than a week ago.

When he heard another loud sigh, the sound of her flopping back with a huff against the pillows, the frustrated growl of annoyance, and finally the sound of her feet hitting the ground as she began to pace, he knew that it was time to do something. She had repeated this process once an hour for a total of five minutes before falling back into bed to once more try again to sleep. He waited those five minutes and heard the resounding thunk of her headboard against the wall as she violently adjusted herself in to bed, grumbling the whole time.

Shutting the laptop with a soft click, Sherlock got up, went to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of brandy from beneath the sink as well as two glasses before heading to Amber's room. He knocked twice before hearing her muffled, and annoyed, 'come in'.

"Brandy?" he offered in question to the redhead curled around a pillow. He could just make out her shape beneath the thick blanket she had added to ward off the cold of the night. He could see her curls but most of her was buried under the blankets, including her face.

"No," her voice was muffled, this time because of the fabric covering her head and not because of the door. "I don't need alcohol, just sleep."

"Alcohol is a depressant and will relax you enough that you might be able to get some sleep. Have a glass," he ordered this time instead of asking. He watched her struggle out of the blankets, grabbing her glasses off the nightstand, and shoving them onto her face.

He heard her sigh once more as she pushed her hand through her hair. "Yeah, fine. I suppose it's better than laying here trying to sleep." She patted the empty side of the bed as she positioned her pillows behind her so she was sitting up.

Taking his spot beside her, sliding his lower half under the blankets, he offered her one of the empty glasses. He filled them carefully as to not spill the liquid on the bedding. He handed her the bottle to set on the stand beside the bed. For a moment they sat in silence, sipping casually.

"How did you know I wasn't sleeping?" Amber finally asked as she fought the urge to knock back the brandy in once gulp.

"You weren't exactly quiet about it. I could hear you pacing every hour or so."

She hung her head. "God, I am so sorry Sherlock. It might be better if you just go upstairs to do whatever work you're trying to do. I doubt I'm going to be conducive to quiet research," she chuckled dryly at herself.

"I am perfectly fine staying down here. John and Megan were in the living room kissing the last time I was up stairs." He was pretty sure he had caught the two of them getting ready to do a little more than just kissing and so he had hightailed it out of there as fast as possible. He did not want to see that, he never wanted to see that. The only person he wanted to see nude was the woman sitting beside him. He had actually been shocked when that thought had entered his head a couple of weeks ago, when wrapped in her arms, his lips fused against hers, and her fingers digging lightly into his scalp.

Sex was not something he thought about often, if at all. There of course was his hormone fueled adolescence when he had been going through puberty. Though he didn't think about sex consciously but his body reacted nonetheless. There was college, where he had indulged in his baser urges but only out of scientific curiosity and peer pressure. He understood sex and pleasure but what he never understood was how a man could be so controlled by those urges that he sought out partner after partner. He didn't look for woman to have sex with, it just never occurred to him. Even when he had first started dating Amber it had never been about sex.

It hadn't been her looks which had attracted him to her at first. He was attracted to her for her mind, the way her brain worked at such a high speed she could keep up with him most of the time. Then there was her personality, the way she was so open and forward, the way she could, if needed, insult others as he did though she often refused to do so. He was attracted to her body last, he couldn't deny that any longer. She was pretty, not stunning as Irene had been, but she was well worth the second glance. He supposed, the more he had gotten to know her, the more beautiful she had come to be to him.

Of course there had been moments, stunning moments, where he had noticed her appearance first. Halloween being the most notable moment since she had practically been wearing nothing, her breasts pushed to her throat in that damned corset and her leather pants had hugged her shapely hips and legs like a second, very alluring, skin. Then there was that dress for the gala, a dress that hugged her figure just right while clashing so beautifully with her skin tone and hair. He could not deny the lust any longer, no matter how often he had tried to ignore it for another day or push the emotions to the back of his mind. He was male and he had urges.

"Affectionate is what those two are. A little over the top for my tastes but you have to admit they work well together," Amber shot back the rest of her brandy having grown tired of just sipping. Sherlock heard her hiss as he knew she felt the burning sensation down the back of her throat. He chuckled to himself, took the glass from her before she could refill it, and set it along with his down on the floor beside the bed.

"They could avoid places such as my couch to express their affection. I'd rather not have to steam clean it," he muttered with a bit of disgust, well more than a bit.

Amber laughed at that, a small throaty true laugh that brought warmth to his heart. It was the laugh he hadn't heard in weeks. He looked forward to when this was over and she would laugh more often like that, to when she would smile more. "Better your couch than your bed though, right?"

He looked at her, shocked. "Why would they do something like that in my bed? They've got their own."

She rolled her eyes at him, giving him a little playful shove. "Friends often do things like that, usually in the heat of the moment or out of spite. Meg and a previous boyfriend of hers used my bed. Sadly I walked in on them. Replaced the whole thing." She shuddered, though he knew it wasn't in actual horror.

"I'll be sure to lock my door from now on."

"Do that," she leaned into him as she spoke. He, in turn, leaned into her, his lips catching hers gently and almost carefully.

She was so vulnerable at the moment, he didn't want to over step his boundaries. Yet, as she moved herself closer to him, pressing her supple curves into him all he could think about for one shining moment was the tightening in his groin which had become a familiar sensation when Amber was this close to him.

In a matter of moments, Amber was straddling his lap, the blankets now pooling around their intertwined bodies. As her fingers laced in his hair, his hands grasped her hips roughly. He was surprised, and pleased, when his fingers brushed against the soft flesh of her hips. She was wearing practically nothing, a thin strapped tank top minus the bra and a pair of dark cotton knickers. He was pleasantly shocked about this because of one simple fact. Since he had been staying in her flat she had taken to trying to wearing shorts or pajama bottoms out of modesty. She had made it clear that it wasn't her usual attire for nighttime and apparently tonight she had decided to revert back to her natural ways. He didn't mind it at all, in fact he wished, in some distant part of her mind, that she would wear less to bed more often.

He nipped at her bottom lip, listened to her gasp, felt himself straining to elicit that noise from her once more as she pressed herself tighter against him. The subtle buck of her hips let him know exactly what she was asking for, yet the intelligent part of his mind not riding the high of lust screamed for him to stop, to slow it down, to make sure that this was what she really wanted and not just a quick distraction from the problems she faced in her daily life.

It took him another moment of her passionate kisses for him to gather the strength to pull away from her. When his lips left hers he heard her whine of disappointment as she tried to pull him back to her. He almost gave in to her. Almost. "Amber," he whispered hoarsely, just as riled up as she was.

That seemed to be enough to shake her from the lust filled stupor her mind had been under. "Been a while?" she tried to tease but it came out a little embarrassed. She had jumped him for lack of a better explanation. Embarrassed as she was, she was not about to move from the position that she was in. It was nice to know that he was attracted to her, feeling him beneath her as they both struggled for control of their urges.

"Actually yes," his voice came out hoarse once more but he attributed that to the fact that she was still straddling him, her center pressed against his straining erection. It took a powerful man not to flip her over and have his way with her.

She cocked her head to the side in a questioning manner. "How long?"

"Two or three years out of college," he admitted without any hint of shame.

Her eyes widened in surprise. She blinked twice before collapsing against him, her head falling to the crook of his neck as her body pressed closer to his. "Been a long while for me too," she whispered against his skin.

"Since your husband," he didn't need to actually ask to know he was correct. However, he felt her nod lightly as if he had asked instead of stated. "Was your husband the only one?" This he did ask.

She nodded again as she wrapped her arms tighter around him. Though she was still straddling his lap, the embrace was rather comfortable given her light frame. He wasn't about to complain about her close proximity to him. He quite enjoyed her nearness, even if it was slightly awkward due to his arousal. "He was my first and I suppose the last man I slept with. I never," she stopped, pulling back to look him in the eyes. "I never thought I'd find someone I wanted to sleep with after him. I thought...well I supposed I thought he was my soul mate and that to have urges was something to be ashamed of."

He reached up to push a flame bright curl off her forehead before stroking her cheek ever so lightly. Softness, he always felt soft when around her. "When did you realize it wasn't shameful but a natural bodily function?"

She chuckled, "Just a couple of weeks before I met you. I was going to get myself back out there, try dating again. I guess that decision lead me to you in a manner of speaking." She kissed him lightly on the lips as both of his hands settled once more onto her hips. "But I'm more than willing to wait."

Sherlock ran his hands up from her hips, up along her sides, his thumbs brushing the sides of her breasts through her shirt while doing so. That earned him the sight of watching her eyes roll back into her head and her mouth open in a slight gasp. He smirked, removed his hands from her body only to cup her face lightly. She was tempting him, tempting to him really. He was so close giving into those urges he felt around her. But he didn't, he just said, "I believe we should wait. You're stressed, running on little sleep, and I believe you need comfort not sex."

When her eyes finally opened he saw them glossy, an emotion swirling in their green depths that had his heart stopping. He wasn't sure he understood the emotion she was emitting, at least not consciously, but it made him pull her face to his to place soft kissing against her lips until he felt a dampness on his own cheeks.

"Don't cry," he pleaded when he realized she was crying. He was still not comfortable around her when she cried. In fact he wasn't comfortable around any female when they began to cry. It made him nervous, not sure what to do, nor why they seemed to be doing it. Like now, she wasn't sad and she wasn't sacred. He didn't understand _why she was crying_.

"I don't deserve you," her bottom lip quivered slightly as she swiped at her face frantically.

Using his thumbs he rubbed at her tears as well, sweeping them gently away. "Why do you say that?"

She sniffled, "You're just you Sherlock. Even as crass and as annoying as you can be, you are one of the sweetest people I have ever met. You might not see it, or even believe it, but you are! You won't have sex with me, not because you don't want me but because you are worried that I'm not ready due to the stress I'm under. A normal man wouldn't have asked questions after I straddled them. They wouldn't have taken my emotional state into understanding and then come morning I would have felt so silly." she smiled through her tears, which he was coming to realize were because she happened to find herself happy. Woman were confusing, especially the one currently sitting on him. "So thank you Sherlock, for just being you and for being here."

"You don't have to thank me," he stated starting to feel a little awkward at the turn of the conversation.

"I know," she sighed out softly as she kissed him softly once more before sliding off of him. She felt him tense as she moved, watched his eyes close tightly. She smiled but said nothing. "But still thanks."

"You're welcome." It was all he could croak out as she snuggled down under her blanket once more, pulling the pillows down to put under her head.

"You should go back to the living room, try to get whatever you were doing done," she looked up at him from her spot.

Shaking his head, he wiggled his way into a laying position. He motioned for her to roll over facing away from him which caused her to simply smirk. He pulled her back against him, spooning her smaller frame into his larger one still painfully aware of the fact that he had an erection. She didn't seem to mind seeing as her body relaxed as his arms wrapped her comfortably to him. He had found himself enjoying this, him laying down with her in bed. She was an easy sleeper, never did she hit or shove or take over the whole bed. She had, once, complained that he himself did try to take over the bed but with enough shoving he got the hint, even in his sleep. She didn't snore, at least not often that was and even when she did her snore was soft and light.

He also found himself sleeping sounder, almost harder, than he did in his own bed by himself. He would have never guessed in a million years that he would be so comfortable with a woman sleeping in bed with him that he could easily allow himself to sleep in such a manner. He liked it more than he thought he ever could. It had been strange at first, having someone so close to him in the middle of the night but by the second or third time he had laid with her he found it natural, a thing he might just miss if it were to ever stop.

000000000000000

A little after nine the following morning, Sherlock found himself waking up to the vibrations of his phone in his pajama pant's pocket. Risking a glance at the sleeping woman beside him, he fished around in his pocket as carefully as he could to retrieve his mobile. Once he had it he saw he had a missed call from Lestrade, a curious text from John, and a mildly angry text from Megan. He ignored everything but the phone call from Lestrade.

Once more looking at Amber, he found himself not wanting to leave the bed. She had just finally slipped into a restful sleep a few hours ago after some more tossing a turning in the circle of his arms. He knew that not long after he got off the bed she would wake, find him missing, and begin to freak out. She had done that several times since learning the newest bit of information two days ago. He knew she suffered from nightmares, of him going missing, of her being kidnapped, of one of them being hurt or worse killed. Ever since that damned call.

She hated it, he knew, but she suffered through it in silence until those nights when he slipped away for a moment to do something and she found him missing when she woke up. She wouldn't so much scream as she'd shoot out of bed, frantically looking for him. He always found her in a disheveled state, her eyes bright with fear and worry, her breathing fast and irregular, and her bottom lip swollen from her biting it.

Strong as she was, she was starting to crack. The stress was becoming too much, the situation almost unbearable. She wasn't holding herself with as much confidence, she was falling more into herself, talking less, trying to put more of herself into whatever she was doing in place of work.

"Sherlock," her hoarse sleepy voice called as he watched her. "What is it?" she questioned, bringing a fisted hand to her eye in order to rub the sleep away.

"Lestrade called?"

"What did he say?" she asked softly, believing that he had already answered and talked to the other man. When he said nothing she sighed. "You didn't answer did you?"

"I was sleeping, missed the call by less than ten seconds." He found himself pushing a lock of her hair behind her ear. He felt her nuzzle into his hand, much in the same manner her cat often nuzzled when kneading or wanting attention. "I'm going to call him back," he looked her in the eyes. "Later."

She gave a half smile, turned her face to kiss the palm of his hand. "He might have some information he needs to give you. He waited until," she looked at the clock. "Nine to tell us. I think this warrants a call back now, not later."

"Whatever he has to tell me can certainly wait," he ran a thumb under her eye, brushing over the bruise giving away the fact that she had little, if any, restful sleep. "You need some more sleep."

"I have work. I'm scheduled to come in at noon," she actually seemed excited about the prospect of going back to work. "I've been on holiday for nearly two weeks now. Not as if I can take yet another day off."

"Under these circumstances I believe no one would blame you for taking yet another day, as you say, off from work."

Her moods had been unpredictable as of late and it came as no surprise when she growled and climbed her way out of the bed. "I've just ended a forced holiday and I am sick and tired of everyone telling me to take another day off. If I took a day off every time I was stressed do you know how often I would work?" she asked rhetorically. "Never! I'd never work. And then we've have a paradox on our hands because if I never worked I'd never be stressed and if I'm never stressed I could work. It's a never ending fucking cycle that I can't get anyone to fucking understand!" she cursed out her hands knotting themselves into her hair in her frustration. Sherlock just sat there and rode it out.

"I can't hide away like a bloody child anymore. This isn't going to go away if I hide under the covers and wish real hard despite what you lot think. I'm not five years old, I'm a grown adult and I'm not the only one going through shit like this! My sister is being held by some fucking psychotic bastard who seems to be hell bent on turning everything I know upside down. I can't walk outside my God forsaken door without a police officer on my arse. I can't sleep because I don't feel safe, and don't take this the wrong way, but not even you give me that security I had before this started happening. I look over my shoulder everywhere I go even when I'm at work and at home safely. I have people at work pitying me and apologizing for things they can't even comprehend. I can't pick up my phone without my hand shaking. I barely eat because I end up feeling like I'm going to vomit it back up, I want to drink myself into the bottom of a bottle but I know I can't because I'm not that kind of person and I don't like alcohol THAT much. I have Megan so worried she's not sleeping, she's snapping at John and Mrs. Hudson is scared to death to even talk to her for fear of setting her off. You've practically moved into my flat, I know that isn't something you wanted. I keep you distracted from your work because apparently you're worried about me, which I love by the way, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. I worry because I fear you're becoming annoyed and bothered by me.

"I'm also a ticking time bomb. I explode at the drop of a hat, I lash out, I snap, I snarl, I and become a functional mute until I deem it proper to start speaking again. I excuse myself to go to the loo only to cry for ten minutes in a stall because I just can't help it. I shake, I jump, I flinch, and I've bit my nails down to the quick. My mind isn't as sharp as it could be, I take longer to make the connections I usually do, I'm going to be useless at crime scenes because even the thought of the sight of a body has me on edge, thinking that it could be my sister or maybe the killer and/or stalker is standing outside waiting to see my reaction.

"Oh," she snapped pointing at him. "Lets not forget that Lestrade has decided I have to see the damned therapist on a daily since I talked to her last week because apparently it _helped_. I am being forced to go talk to a person I'd rather see booted out the bloody door of the Yard and what does it get me? Some shit about needing to take the time and reflect or try to accept what I cannot control? Of course she's reporting to Lestrade, and in turn he is telling you. And by now I bet that two of you have figured out I say very little to her. I muddle through with a few choice words, running her in a never ending circle until that bloody hour is up and I can flee." She huffed having ranted for quite some time now. She knew she was angry, knew half the things coming out of her mouth weren't actually right nor did she mean them. She hadn't been lying however about having to see Latimer. The first two times she talked, but lately she rarely said more than five words to the lady. If it were on her own terms she would have been fine, but it wasn't and she was angry.

There was silence before she said softly, "I'm done Sherlock. I'm bloody done. I can't take it any more, I just want it to stop. There are moments where I look in the mirror and think that maybe it would have been a stroke of good luck if my siblings and I had been home that night my parents were murdered. If we had been we wouldn't be here and none of this would happen. Then I kick myself for even thinking that because I realized my siblings and I would have been deprived of what little time they had, what time I have had and still do have. Then there are times I get so depressed I do think the inside of a bottle of good wine is an excellent source of distraction, as well as a couple handfuls of sleeping pills. But where would that get me? I'm not that kind to kill myself, so why would I even think that? I know it's just the stress and a form of depression, I'm smart enough to understand that but I do think that if I wasn't here none of this would be happening. I mean, sure, this skinning killer bastard would still be killing, Brianna would still be missing, more likely dead by now though. You wouldn't have to worry about me. Megan wouldn't be worrying about me, neither would John and everyone else I have come to care about in the last four, nearly five months. I don't want anything to happen to anyone I care for Sherlock, especially you," she finished with a growl and narrowed gaze at Sherlock before she turned on her bare heels and stalked to the bathroom.

Sherlock was left standing there, stunned at her admission of what she truly felt about this whole situation. He hadn't know how she felt, no matter how many time he had asked her if she was alright or heard someone else ask her. She always answered with 'I'm fine' before putting on a smile which Sherlock clearly knew was faked.

He wasn't sure how much of what she had just said was meant in the manner he took it. He knew she was angry, far more angry than she had been in the past couple of weeks. Even when she had smacked him, when he had goaded her on, she hadn't been so angry. She hadn't ranted, she hadn't screamed so much as hissed. But tonight she had exploded, a minor eruption which had taken him by complete surprise. He wasn't surprised often by others. Cases yes, people no. Amber always had a way of surprising him even if she simply just offered him a smile or what she said.

Hoping that she wasn't too angry with him, Sherlock disentangled himself from the bed making his way to the bathroom door. He knocked lightly but didn't say anything even when he heard her growl, "Go away Sherlock." He just stood there. He could out wait her if need be.

"I can hear you standing there."

"How can you hear me standing here? I'm not making noise," Sherlock retorted.

Amber jerked open the door allowing it to slam as she stood there in her knickers and tank top. Her eyes blazed with unshed tears while mouth was set in a scowl of annoyance. "You didn't walk away, therefore I heard you standing there. Rather, I didn't hear you standing there if you want me to be correct," she hissed shoving him none to gently out of the way. "I also told you to go away," she added as she walked into her closet.

"I am aware," Sherlock said as he sat himself on her bed having no intention of actually leaving.

"So what do you not understand about go away, Sherlock?" She growled a little bit this time around as she stalked from her closet holding a pair of black jeans and a cashmere sweater. When he just sat there she nearly screamed her annoyance with him. "If you aren't going to go away completely than go to the living room so I can change," she ordered.

Under her steely gaze, Sherlock stared back for a moment before ultimately deciding it was better for his health and well being to leave the room as she said. He was not going to leave her alone, but giving her privacy was another thing. "Where are you going?" he asked just before he closed the door behind him.

"I"m going to the Yard after I call Lestrade back since you won't," she growled as she shut the door in his face with a bang.

It wasn't more than two minutes later that she was whipping open the door, her anger now replaced with something akin to fear while still dressed in her night clothes. "There's been a murder," she announced in a soft and tentative voice.

"The skinner?" he asked through giving that criminal a nickname, as accurate as it was, left a bad taste in his mouth.

Amber nodded slowly as she bit at her bottom lip. "Yeah, but this time the body was dumped in the Thames. Sherlock, that was how Kelly was found," her voice shook.

"But she wasn't skinned," he added.

"And she wasn't male," she breathed out slowly trying to calm herself. "According to Lestrade this victim is male. They dragged him out of the river an hour ago."

"Why has it taken so long for him to call? We could have been there already," Sherlock scoffed.

"I didn't ask," Amber took another deep breath. "But I can assume he didn't WANT to bring me in. He doesn't want me there, I know this but..." she trailed off, ran a hand through her bed mused hair. "I've got to go to work. He knew." It hit her like a brick.

"Lestrade knew what?"

"No," Amber shook her head. "The killer. He knew I was coming back to work today. He knew, somehow he knew I've been off these last two weeks. He's still watching me." She shuddered violently before her jaw clenched. "I have to let Lestrade know."

"You'll tell him when we get to the scene."

Amber nodded, "Yeah. Um...I need to change and so do you." She opened the door wider to allow him back inside the bedroom. "I apologize for how I acted."

"Don't," he started only to be cut off by her hand in the air.

"I had no right to yell at you or to vent my anger in such a manner. I am angry and I am scared Sherlock. I haven't been able to find a way to explain that to you or the others. I suppose it just built to the point that I exploded and you just happened to be the spark. It could have been anything. So I am sorry for anything I might have said that upset, or worried, you," she finished with a half smile as she walked to her closet, a bra and pair of knickers in her hand. She had taken to changing in the closet since Sherlock was pretty much living with her at the moment and they hadn't exactly seen each other naked. Well he had, sort of, but that was besides the point. "I don't really want to kill myself you know," she added for his benefit as she changed in the closet.

"I know."

"You did," Amber poked her head out looking at him.

"You are not the type to commit suicide. You've got to many people who would would miss you," he added watching her give him a light smile. He remembered his own little stunt and all the people, few that they were, who had suffered because of it. He hadn't actually killed himself. No, he hadn't been that stupid. But thinking about it now, he wondered what would have become of his friends, even the little bit of family he had, if he had really killed himself to save them. What would have happened if Amber had been around when that had happened? How would she have reacted? He didn't really want to think about that.

"That is true," she agreed just as her mobile beeped. "Damn Lestrade. He's texting to tell us to hurry up isn't he?" she asked already knowing that Sherlock was looking at her phone.

Sherlock picked up her phone, opened the message, and fought a deeply instinctual urge to hurl it against the wall. The text was not from Lestrade. It was from the man who was causing such havoc in Amber's and his life.

Simply, it read:

**Have fun with my gifts dear, expect more! xx**

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A/N: So what did you all think? I wasn't quite sure about this chapter, I literally rewrote this about three times. This was the chapter I mentioned a couple chapters back as the one that was originally supposed to be posted but I thought it didn't fit. Well I found where it fit. So please give me your opinions and yes, I know that the last few chapters have been focused on Amber and her mental state, there is a reason for that. You'll see so I'm sorry if it has become repetitive in that respect.

Oh and I want your opinion on something that I've been thinking for a while. As you all know I have a month until the one year anniversary of this story is coming up and I was thinking, that since I have about ten chapters left before the end of this story, what if I posted two a week, maybe one week there will be three? What do you all think about that? That way the story would end(hopefully) on the day that this story reaches that one year milestone. I would also(again hopefully) start the sequel that day as well. But I'm not sure, I have the time thanks to it being summer break and I can't find a freaking job or a place to volunteer because of the teenagers in the area being required to volunteer for whatever reason. SO yeah, I have the free time. What do you all think? Would that make you guys happy?

Anyways, until next time my lovelies!...which might be later this week around Wednesday!


	33. Chapter 31

_Hello once more my lovely readers. Welcome back and it has only been since Sunday! So I decided to update twice a week because I have 9 chapters left. Two a week should bring me to the finish of this story on the 26th of next month. However there might be a week where you get three chapters instead of just two. Haven't decided what week that'll be, if at all. Anyways enjoy the chapter!_

_**Gwilwillith:** Thank you so much! I hope you think the same about this one._

_**CarminaxBuranax:** I'm so glad the text came off as scary, I was aiming for that but wasn't sure if I nailed it or not. Oh yeah, Amber venting was important and there might be more of it later on, haven't quite decided yet or not. I'm happy to hear that I've keep the relationship well-written. I used to struggle with that in my writing so it's nice to see that I'm doing just fine with it now. Well you're gonna get more frequent updates, as you can see lol. Enjoy the chapter! (oh and you are so lucky for getting Sherlock series two on DVD. I don't have either yet XD)_

_**Your Nightmare's Nightmare:** Hm, deep. I never thought of her venting as deep...but now that I think about it, it kind of was. Enjoy the chapter :)_

_**The Yoshinator:** Oh, I'm sorry it was so depressing. Things will be getting a little lighter, well sort of I hope. There is a purpose I swear to you, just hang in there and I hope you don't mind the little depressing moments! Hope you enjoy the chapter!_

_**Loki'sdreamer:** Yep, a sequel though I'm pretty sure this story is going to be the first in a series actually. And yes this story has been going a year. I didn't believe it either until I looked at when I first posted it. Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, the BBC does! I do own Amber and Megan and the plot, however!_

* * *

**[031]**

"What did it say?" Amber asked walking out of the closet, pulling her hair back with a clip she had swiped off her dresser on her way out. "Sherlock?" The tone in her voice was low, nervous, and more than a little hesitant but it betrayed nothing of the inner turmoil she felt.

When he still didn't respond, just kind of looked at her, she reached to take the phone from his hand. At the last possible second his brain kicked into gear allowing him to move his hand just before she managed to snag the item she was aiming for. Having expected the get her hands on the phone, she stumbled forward as she lost her balance before slamming back down flat on her feet.

"Sherlock," she growled, her eyes not holding the anger her voice did. In fact, her green eyes gleamed with fear already having put the facts together inferring the reason he refused to give her the phone or tell her what the message said. They had spent so much time together she could read the man like a book. In fact she had scared John once with how well she could figure out what Sherlock was thinking. "It was the skinner wasn't it?"

"Yes," he muttered clicking her phone off and stashing it in his pocket. "No need to worry, we've got a murder to solve."

With a roll of her eyes, she grabbed her low heeled boots from beside her dresser where she had taken to stashing them. As she leaned over she said, "I'll find out sooner or later Sherlock. I'm as smart as you."

"Uh huh," he sighed as his gaze landed on her backside. He blinked a couple of times finding that, for a moment, his mind had gone completely blank despite the fact that he should have been rushing to a crime scene not staring at his girlfriend's bum. But what a lovely sight it was, encased in black skinny jeans which hugged her almost as well as those leather pants from Halloween.

Amber frowned when she found him silent, not even bothering to laugh or chortle or even throw out a comment on how no one was as smart as him. She stood up straight, boots in hand, to turn and look at Sherlock. She found his eyes glazed over a bit, his gaze distant yet still locked onto her form. Her brows furrowed as she thought about the possible reasons for his distraction. Then it dawned on her as looked down at the boots in her hand before noticing her tight fitting jeans.

The frown on her face turned into a coy smirk as she tossed the boots onto the bed rather thoughtlessly. Waltzing her way to Sherlock, she couldn't help but feel her heart race increase. "Were you staring at my arse?" she inquired with a raised brow.

Shaking himself out of it, Sherlock looked down at the short woman standing in front of him now. "No, I was not," he sniffed, almost offended she would suggest such a thing, even as true as it was.

Her smirk turned into a full blown grin as she gave a soft laugh, wrapping her arms around his neck when she was within a few inches of him. "Of course you were," she teased lightly leaning into him more.

His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer to him out of habit. "Why would I be staring?"

Seeing that it was a genuine question, Amber refused to give up this opportunity to tease the consulting detective in an educational manner. "Well," she pecked him lightly on the lips once. "You are a man and I'm a woman. We tend to stare at certain parts of the other sex's anatomy, especially those we find attractive. So far I've seen you stare at my breasts and now you've stared at my backside. Not to mention my eyes and lips. It's only natural really, I've stared at yours on more than one occasion. You're bum that is." He blinked at her admission but said nothing on the subject. "Did you like what you saw?" It was not a question of vanity, nor one of those questions a woman might ask to trick her significant other into getting himself into trouble. It was a simple questions to which she was curious about his answer.

"Very much so," he admitted trying to sound causal about it but hating having actually been caught. "Those jeans..." his voice cracked just a bit when he pulled up the image on her bum in the jeans. "Are a little bit tight, do you not think?"

"Hm," she smirked again, leaning in closer to Sherlock's mouth. "I think they fit just fine, love. I'm sure you do too." She finally kissed him, hoping he hadn't noticed her little endearment she had slipped in there.

The kiss continued long and soft, though they both knew that they didn't have the time to mess around with displays of affection. This little fact wasn't going to stop them from doing what they did when in each others arms. Amber's hands traveled from his neck down to his arms before they looped around his waist, not before completing a mission she knew Sherlock would be angry about.

After several moments, the duo broke apart for air, leaning their foreheads together. Amber's smile was soft and a bit impish, not that Sherlock really noticed the impishness nor that fact that she removed one of her arms to slip something into her pocket. Sherlock's own smile was small, him being a man not used to smiling until there was chaos around. It was enough for Amber, even to let her know he cared and enjoyed their little moments together.

"Continue getting ready. I'll take care of the cat," Sherlock suggested first before giving her a quick parting kiss.

When he was out of sight, Amber pulled her mobile from her back pocket where she had stashed it upon snagging it from his pocket when they had been otherwise occupied. She walked to the bed flipping the phone in her hand realizing how easy it was to trick Sherlock Holmes. Well she wouldn't call it tricking him, more like distracting him enough that he didn't notice something she was doing. All she had to do was wrap herself around him and she had him in the palm of her hand. She didn't know why but that little bit of power made her feel good. It had been a long while since she could get the better of a man.

She sat on the edge of the bed putting on her boots first before looking at her phone. The text had her inhaling a breath which she held as she tried to clear her mind. She could see why Sherlock had tried to keep her phone away from her. He had wanted to keep her from freaking out. He wanted her level headed and calm when she went back to work because he had KNOWN this body was meant for her, all of them were.

By this point in her life she was numb. She didn't toss the phone away, didn't scream, she didn't even cry. Hell, she barely blinked. She was so blank and all her mind could come up with was, 'well, what do I do now?'

"Amber," Sherlock called from the kitchen. "Where is the hay?"

"Um, the pantry I believe," she responded with such calmness that Sherlock came into the room seconds later.

He caught sight of the phone on her hands and quickly snatched it away from her. "I should have known you'd do something like this," he angrily muttered as he put the device once more in his trouser pocket.

"What?" she asked so softly he barely caught it.

"You seduced your phone out of my pocket. I should have known that you teasing me meant you were up to something," he was angry with her, he knew. He also knew that he didn't mean what he was saying, not really.

Amber was on her feet in a heartbeat, striding to stand in front of Sherlock now. "I have NEVER done anything like this before! There is no reason to believe that flirting with you means I'm up to something!" She huffed loudly, feeling the urge to slap him rise. At least this time hitting him would be appropriate. "I am clever, more so than you at times. I used that cleverness to get MY mobile back. You had no right to hide this from me or take my phone. This is my life Sherlock."

"Don't you think I know that?!" Sherlock shouted loudly, annoyed that they were screaming at one another.

"Then why Sherlock? Why did you hide this from me?" The anger drained just as fast as it had appeared, replaced now with tiredness and wariness. She rubbed her hand over her face. "You know what," she started before he answered. "You don't need to answer. I understand why you did what you did. I just don't like admitting to the fact that someone wants to, or has to, protect me. Once more I'm sorry for screaming."

"And I apologize for keeping this from you. You were right, it wasn't my place to do so. I also had no right to accuse you of seducing your mobile off my person."

Amber closed her eyes briefly, savoring the apology because she knew all to well that they were rare coming from him. "I forgive you. I don't like fighting, not when I'm already so stressed."

"We're going to have to tell Lestrade about this development," he turned the conversation in a different direction as he ushered her out of the bedroom and down the hall to the living room. He had already finished most of her morning chores, having seen her do them a hundred times since he had started staying with her. He figured he could lend her a hand. John was always complaining he didn't help.

Grabbing her coat and scarf off the back of a chair, Amber nodded. "I figured as much. It's only proper to let him know. The number is different so maybe, just maybe, we might be able to get a trace on this one. I highly doubt it, but at least it's something to look into."

He nodded as he too wrapped himself in his scarf and coat as they headed for the front door. He grabbed the keys from the small bowl she had taken to keeping on the stand near the door. She didn't bother with a purse today so he took it upon himself to keep a hold of her keys for the time being.

"Tube or taxi?" he asked when they were on the street.

"Better idea," she nodded her head at one of the two police cars sitting across the street. Amber knew for a fact that this was essentially the changing of the guard, in a manner of speaking. One set of officers were getting ready to move out while the other were getting ready to settle in for the morning to late afternoon shift of babysitting 221B Baker Street. She would be so happy, as would the officers, when this whole ordeal was over.

Looking both ways down the street, the two of them darted across when the coast was clear enough. It was nine in the morning so while the foot traffic was rather heavy the street traffic was nearly the same. Without much incident, they made it to the waiting police cars where they were greeted by four lovely officers, one of which was female.

"Good morning," the redhead called sweetly. "Switching off now are we?"

"Yes ma'am. Good morning to you too ma'am, sir," the female officer smiled brightly at the two of them. "Is there something we can do for you?"

"Actually would you mind giving us a lift to the Westminster Bridge? DI Lestrade says a body was found in the river and our presence has been requested on the Embankment," she explained lightly, not letting on that there was anything bothering either of them.

The officer smiled and motioned towards the car behind her. "Sure, it's not a problem."

"Thank you so much," she gushed as she gripped Sherlock's hand lightly in her own for a moment before allowing him into the back of the car first. He simply spared her a glance with a look that clearly said she was to get in first.

While the officers watching laughed, Amber slipped inside followed by Sherlock. "Been a long while since I was in the back seat of a police car."

"You've never been arrested," Sherlock said offhandedly as the officers joined them inside the car.

Amber gave a little laugh. Leave it to Sherlock to only think riding in a police car meant being arrested. "I might not have been arrested but I have been in the back of a police car. When my parents...well after, my siblings and I were escorted the police station to wait for my aunt to get into town to collect us." She wasn't laughing now, but she was nibbling on one of her nails, her whole body having gone tense at the memory.

"Stop that," he grabbed the hand near her mouth, reaching for the other one before she could gnaw on those nails. They were just starting to grow back. He couldn't wait to see the colours she painted them. The colour of he nails often told him the mood she was in.

It took a few minutes of silence, the officers in the front of the car understanding that it was better not to speak, before Amber relaxed enough for him to let go of her hands. He watched as she placed them into her lap where she laced them together tightly. "Sorry, still a rough subject."

"Was that the only time you were escorted in by the police?"

Shaking her head, she sighed. "No, the last time was when Kelly was found. Before that it was when I had to identify my brother after the accident. That makes this trip number three." At that she actually giggled. Three times in the back of a police car and none of those times had she ever been handcuffed. Not many people could say that with a straight face.

The two of them lapsed into silence as they were driven to the crime scene.

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Upon their arrival at the scene, both Addie and Sherlock were escorted around the media. The cases had made international news after the discovery of the last body and with growing attention came the overwhelming amount of journalists, camera crews, and news reporters. It was widely known that Sherlock had faced this kind of attention before, but Amber hadn't.

So mildly uncomfortable, Sherlock wrapped his arm around her in order to pull her into him as the cameras flashed intermittently. He already had the collar of his coat popped up as to hide some of his face from the media. He didn't even realize the fact that his protective act would most likely land the couple on the front of some second rate tabloid in the city, one of the ones which still followed Sherlock Holmes and his adventures. There weren't many, that was for sure. But that few that did, well they managed to get some very good photos of him when he was out working for the police.

"I'm fine Sherlock, trust me," she mumbled as they finally ducked under the tape having had to push their way through gawking pedestrians trying in vain to get a look at the police activity and the body being hauled from the river. "Hm," she began again. "According to Lestrade its been a little over an hour since the body was discovered. Why are they now jus..." Amber stopped when she saw that this was the third body being pulled from the water. The other two lay in open body bags on the embankment, the ME and techs looking them over for an remaining evidence that hadn't been washed away by the water. "Oh," was all she could say now as she paled at the sight.

Lestrade spotted them before Sherlock could point out that the text message had been plural, meaning there had been more than one victim. He had figured that out the moment he read the text, he hadn't been sure if Amber had. He had his answer now.

"Thank god you are here," the silver haired man said after coming to stand in front of them. His face was drawn in annoyance, not with Sherlock or Amber, but with the situation at hand.

"Before we get to the bodies, Sherlock and I need to talk to you," Amber whispered, seeing the looks on the faces of some of the officers inside the crime scene tape as well as the curious glances from the bystanders. She could hear the shouting of a couple of uniformed officers trying to keep the media at bay while others attempted to keep the growing crowd in check. _This is bad_, she thought to herself, _really bad_.

Lestrade's eyes went wide as he looked between the redheaded photographer and the consulting detective. His mind jumped to the worst possible conclusion. "Please tell me she isn't pregnant," the statement was directed at Sherlock. He wasn't sure if he could deal with a mini Sherlock running around the city. He could barely keep a tab on Sherlock himself.

Amber snorted while Sherlock blanched. "Oh heavens no! Nothing of the sort," Amber answered for her currently speechless boyfriend. She wondered where his mind had gone and why he was having such a hard time answering. This was certainly a first, and as much as she enjoyed seeing him shocked senseless she didn't quite enjoy the statement which had caused it.

It took him a few moments, his mind reeling with the idea of Amber being pregnant. They hadn't had sex, but that didn't stop him from imagining the situation where she told him she was carrying his child much later in their relationship, if it ever got that far that was. He didn't know whether to be scared, excited, or worried. He had never thought he'd ever be in a relationship and he certainly had never thought of having children before. But that was a thought for later, a different day when he didn't have to worry about three, possibly more, bodies being pulled out of the Thames surrounded by at least a hundred or more people.

"This morning Amber had the displeasure of being contacted by the killer," Sherlock announced, pulling her phone out of his pocket. He searched for the message before handing it to the DI for inspection. "She received the text not long after you called."

"The person responsible must have been watching the crime scene, waiting for you to show up and then watched as you called Sherlock and I in," Amber finished before Sherlock could insult the man. She could see it coming in the way Sherlock was holding himself. He was going to blame Lestrade for the text somehow, she just knew it.

"Are you alright Amber?"

The man, in a way, felt like a father figure rather than a superior, which was why she wasn't going to lie to him. She gave him a light, if not slightly tight, smile. "Actually, I'm fine. A little rattled and flustered but nothing nearly as bad as how I have reacted."

"Therapy, is it helping?"

She shrugged. "I don't think it is purely the therapy, not that I enjoy being forced to go more often than I care too. I believe it has something to do with me verbally attacking Sherlock this morning," she grinned fondly over at her now annoyed boyfriend. She knew that standing there, watching the bodies, was getting on his nerves. He couldn't go investigate until Lestrade went down there and that drove him nuts. Add to that the fact that Amber had kept him for insulting people so far, he was fit to be tied.

Lestrade opened his mouth to comment when a diver on the embankment shouted, "Got a fourth one!"

Amber nearly shuddered, but managed to keep herself still while Lestrade sighed and rubbed his face. He looked older than he was when at a violent crime scene. She knew that they all would look like hell come the end of the day, whether it was her as a photographer or Anderson as a forensic tech. Sherlock, well Sherlock would still be himself, high functioning sociopath that he was.

"You might want to go get your gear," he man suggested gruffly.

She nodded lightly not taking offense to his tone, "Um, before I go and get my camera I just have one question. Are any of the bodies female?"

The DI nodded watching her stiffen and her eyes widen. Sherlock's arm looped around her waist in a protective manner, bringing her closer to his side even as the agitation of not working the scene got to him. Lestrade had noted the last few times he had seen the couple that they seemed more in tune. He had never seen Sherlock act in such a manner around a woman. He had never been a touchy man, of that the DI knew, and to see him instinctively wrap an arm around the redhead, well, it almost brought a smile to the older man's face. Almost. Under different circumstances, he actually would have cracked a grin, made a comment, and see what happened.

"So far one body has been identified as female, the other two that were brought out before you arrived have been identified as males. The identifying feature of the first body which made the ME say it was female was the fact that she had given birth to at least two children. As far as you know did Bri have any children?"

Amber shook her head. "No, Bri hasn't had kids. How about height?"

"The ME estimates between five foot and five six," Lestrade looked at his notes. "Brianna was five ten was she not?"

The woman visibly relaxed. "Yes, five nine and a half to be exact. Uh, I'll go get my things. Take Sherlock down, he's gonna start pacing like a puppy if you don't take him to see the bodies now."

Lestrade laughed a little at her comment while she received a glare from the man in question. Amber reached up and patted Sherlock's cheek before disentangling herself from his protective grasp. "You're a cute puppy, love. Now go find out who did that down there," she nodded her head in the direction of the bodies. She didn't want to go down there but it was her job and as much as she hated the idea of seeing four new skinned bodies, she was hoping that the killer had screwed up somehow. She wanted this man stopped.

"Donovan!" Lestrade shouted bringing the dark skinned woman jogging out of the crowd where apparently she had been stationed. She didn't look pleased to see Amber and Sherlock but then again her sour exterior could have been because she wasn't actually working the scene, instead keeping the bystanders from getting too riled up.

"Hello freaks," the woman sneered.

Having learned to roll with whatever Donovan came up with to annoy them, Amber simply shooed Sherlock off with Lestrade having already figured out why the DI had called for the woman. Amber needed an escort to the van and Donovan was the best choice in this situation. Despite the disdain the two held for one another they had a professional working relationship. That meant that Lestrade didn't have to worry about arresting Amber for assault or murder.

However, her shooing of Sherlock was more for that woman's benefit than it was for Sherlock himself. Amber could clearly see the evidence of a night not spent at home but with a certain _married_ co-worker. Sherlock had a habit of tossing out the fact that he knew of the illicit relationship and in the end it always lead to more bad blood piling up on top of the old between the consulting detective and the sergeant. In a way it was Amber's subtle attempt to curb the ruder facet of Sherlock's personality. If he wanted to continue working with Scotland Yard than he needed to play nice, that was what she did.

Lestrade gave her a slight nod before ushering Sherlock, well more like motioning for Sherlock to head down to where the bodies were. Amber couldn't hear what was being said but she had a feeling Sherlock was making some sort of rude comment.

The redhead turned back to Donovan, who had lost the sneer on her face. Now she just looked tired, like the rest of them. "I don't mean to pry, it really is none of my business and you have all the right to tell me off for being so noisy, but why do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"What you do with Anderson? He's a married man, clearly he doesn't plan on leaving his wife but he also doesn't have a problem playing around. Doesn't it hurt you, knowing that he spends the nights he's not with you in another woman's bed?" She explained better as they walked towards one of the two vans, weaving around some of the more sickly looking techs. A scene like this, well it would get the best of anyone no matter how many murders you had seen.

"You're right," Donovan snapped, but not with her usual vigor. "It is none of your business."

Amber didn't push, just walked on in uncomfortable silence with a woman she wasn't overly fond of. At the van, she stared inside the back noting that it had been reorganized at some point in the last two weeks. She hated when things got moved around, it made it harder to find what she needed in a timely fashion. She was so happy to be back now because that meant that her gear, including her camera, lenses, memory chips, and bag went home with her. Technically she wasn't supposed to take them home with her at night but most of the forensics crew, which she technically was a part of, looked the other way. The camera was less likely to be broken when kept with her than if they were stored in the van or office. At least that was the running theory.

After finally finding her equipment, she put the lens on the camera, popped in the memory chip from the bag, and proceeded towards the scene with Donovan following closely behind. At this point the redhead had grown mildly used to the flashes of the cameras from the crowd. She knew, that no matter how hard she tried to keep her face from being seen, she was going to be caught on camera. The best she could do was ignore the flashing and do her job. After two weeks of downtime, she was more than happy to be back at work. However given the current circumstances, she felt sad as well.

Investigating the scene was easier that the others had been. She equated that to the fact that these bodies, while still skinned, were not settled in a pool of their own blood. Taking pictures, and poking around she imagined she was doing this as a sort of science project. Though even to her mind that felt like a callous way to think of the poor victims, it was one of the ways she, as well as several others, managed to get through the morning. She had to do whatever was necessary to keep herself sane to do this job.

She had learned, over the course of the two hours she was at the scene, that each victim had been killed on a different day. According to both the ME and a very irate Sherlock, the bodies of each victim, except the most recently murdered one, had been put on ice until that morning when they had most likely been dumped in the river. The cooler temperature of the water had slowed the thawing process. The times of death would be harder to pinpoint but it was inferred that the first victim had been killed four days ago, and one for each of the following days.

It made her blood run cold, to think that these people were meant as some sort of cryptic message to her. Why would a man stalk her, kill one of her sisters and kidnap the other, skin people for the fun of it, and leave the bodies as messages? She didn't even know the context in which the so called messages were meant to be taken. She was smart, but if she couldn't find a solid reason for the messages there was no way to make a connection. It was frustrating as much as it was annoying, scary, and infuriating.

She ignored an interesting inquiry from Sherlock, made her way around the half a dozen or more officers trying to avoid the scene near the water, and headed to the back of the van. She had avoided the escort by pure luck, mostly due to the fact that Lestrade seemed so distracted by whatever the ME was saying and Sherlock was too busy wondering what was wrong with his usually vocal girlfriend as well as trying to solve a crime he clearly had no evidence from.

At the van, sitting on the edge her back feet dangling as she sat, she replaced the camera and all it's parts into the bag. In the process, having been stuck in her own mind, she forgot to remove the memory chip. She stashed the camera in a visible area where she could grab it later on her way back to the lab. Right now she had to go ask Lestrade for an escort back. She was stupid enough to walk to the van unescorted because at least there were officers all around. She wasn't so stupid that she was going to go anywhere outside the crime scene tape without someone to watch over her.

Managing to snag Sherlock, she smiled up at him with her hand on his arm. "Hey, are you done here?" she asked softly, casting a glance at those looking at them. She didn't give a damn who saw any more.

"I am," he nodded sparing one more look to the bodies which were now being zipped up and wheeled out on gurneys one by one.

"I need an escort back to the lab. Up for the job?" She cocked an eyebrow, watching a small, if not playful, smile grow on his face. She enjoyed bringing up the more playful, less serious side of Sherlock Holmes. The best way to do that was to issue a challenge.

"Of course," he actually offered her his arm, which she took graciously.

"I need to make a stop at the van." At his confused look she chuckled, "I wasn't sure how long it would take to get a ride back to the Yard so I left my camera bag in the van for safe keeping instead of hauling it around with me," she explained as they headed for the van in question.

Once there, she stood dumbstruck at the sight before her. The van was a mess, things and equipment thrown about, her camera bag missing. "Where's my camera?" she whispered, flinging the contents of the van away from where she had put the the bag. She KNEW where she had put the bag. It wasn't like she could forget, even if it was three months from now she would still know where she put the damned bag. "Where the bloody hell is my fucking camera?" she screamed this time, turning on her heel to stalk to several officers a couple of feet away.

"Were any of you morons watching the van?" She growled out, resisting the urge to shove one, or all three, of them. They all looked at her as if she had gone off her rocker. "I asked a bloody question! Were you lot watching the van?!" This time her voice carried over the din of the crowd and gathered the attention of Lestrade and Donovan.

Both came scurrying over to see what had set off the redhead.

"Why are you shouting?" It was Lestrade who asked while Sherlock was investigating the back of the forensics van. It was one of two vans in the area.

Amber flung her arm back to point at the destroyed van. "The van was ransacked. Go have a look!" She snarled and stomped away. "My camera is missing!" She shouted out to the DI. "I want it back now!"

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Reviews are very much welcome!**

**A/N: Sooooo tell me what did you think of this chapter? It was lighter than the last one, I figured we needed a little bit of lightness compared to how heavy the last one had been. I have about 9 chapters left to go, possibly more like 8. I will be doing two updates a week: one on Sunday and another on Wednesday. The last chapter and the prologue of the sequel will(hopefully) be posted on June 26th. I'll reveal the name of the story in the final chapter as well as the name of the series that this is a part of. I initially intended for this story to be the first of two stories but I'm pretty sure this is going to be a series, actually I'm 95% sure it will be. Anyways, more information to come in the next few weeks!**

**Until next time my lovelies!  
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	34. Chapter 32

_Hello once more and welcome to your twice weekly dose of fanfiction fun! As always enjoy the chapter!_

_**Empress of Verace:** Yep, this most certainly will be a series in the long run. More info on that to come in the author's note at the bottom! Enjoy the chapter :D_

_**CarminaxBuranax:** Thank you so much for all the little things you have pointed out and the praise you have given me. I really hope I nailed everything in this chapter and that you really enjoy it!_

_**Gwilwillith:** Thank you! Hope you enjoy the chapter!_

_**The Yoshinator:** You won't have to wonder too long to find out the answer. And yes, this story finally, FINALLY has regularly scheduled updates. It only took a year to get to that point lol. Enjoy!_

_**Loki'sdreamer:** Fighting is not something either Amber and Sherlock are particularly fond off so fights will either be very long or end quite shortly. You'll have to wait and see if Amber gets some horrible pictures back ;) Enjoy the chapter!_

_**Yorukazeangel:** Thank you so much! I really don't know what else to say. I couldn't stop smiling when I read your review. I'm so happy you love this story and that you support it being a series. I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much as you have enjoyed the rest! _

_**bored411:** Are you still not getting emails about my updating because if not I'll start PMing you again. I know there was an issue a while ago but I thought FF had fixed it. Anyways, I was going for dark for the last chapter. You're wondering will hopefully be put to rest, at least partially in this chapter. Enjoy the update!_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing but Amber, Megan, the plot, and anything else you don't recognize for the show. If I owned Sherlock, well I certainly wouldn't make us wait so long for series three!_

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**[032]**

"Amber, what the hell happened?!" Lestrade demanded, his anger rising as he looked at the van which was now crawling with forensic techs, as well as Sherlock, looking for any clues as to what had actually happened in the short five minutes the redhead hadn't been there.

Amber forced her hands into her curls, sending the jade colored piece of plastic holding her hair up clattering to the ground. "I don't know! I put the bloody camera away, left it in the back of the van in search of someone, or Sherlock, to take me to the lab and I come back only to find the back of the van looking like a stag party had just blown through," she hissed in anger as she sat on the steps leading down to the Embankment.

"Walk me through it, exactly Amber. I need to know everything you heard and saw between putting the camera away and coming back to retrieve it," the older DI sat down beside the angry and distraught woman. She had screamed and ranted for ten minutes, throwing a tantrum that truly could rival those of a toddler, all because a camera had been stolen. It was out of her control and no one blamed her, at least no one did verbally.

He watched the girl sigh, run a hand over her stressed face, before she scooped up her clip. She played with it for a moment before attaching it to the arm of her coat for safe keeping. "I had finished taking all the pictures you asked for so I figured if I wasn't needed now since the bodies were being taken off, and this wasn't the actual scene of the crime, that I could head off to the lab. I couldn't find someone who wasn't busy to walk me to the van. Seeing as there were at least half a dozen or more officers trying not to vomit up their breakfasts nearby, I decided it would be alright if I just walked to the van to put my stuff away," she held up a hand at the DI's look of annoyance cutting him off his remark. "I took apart my camera, wiped it down of any debris and oils from my skin, capped the lens which I also cleaned, and stuffed it all into its bag. I left it tucked in a small little alcove and I went to look for someone to take me home. I flirted with Sherlock, asked if he wanted to take me to the lab, and then we headed back to the van only to find that it had been tossed and the camera missing."

"Okay," Lestrade nodded having written down her statement as she had spoke. He thanked God for short hand, the woman could talk faster than anyone in the universe when worked up. "Did you see anyone out of the usual in the area? Like someone snooping around or someone in the crowd paying too much attention to you or the scene itself?"

She shook her head. "No, I didn't see anyone who stuck out more than usual. I mean the media and there cameras seemed interested in me but that's because I'm working the case with the Yard, and I'm all over Sherlock Holmes. The people in the crowd, the all look strange to me. I don't understand how people can stand and gawk at murder in such an open manner," she shook her head once more, this time in disgust. "I didn't hear anything either, nothing more than the chatter of officers, the media, and the bystanders."

"Do you have the memory card from the camera?"

Amber's eyes widened before they glossed over as she pounded her left fist onto the concrete. "No, dammit! I left it in the camera." She shook her hand before looking at her knuckles. They were now raw and starting to bleed. She knew she was going to bruise but after a quick flex she found nothing broken. She wasn't about to hit the ground again but at least it took away the urge to cry or scream. "I am so sorry Lestrade. I was thinking it was safe, being in the van and all. I never would have left it if I had known something like this was going to happen."

The man shook his head. "It happens to the best of us. Everyone makes mistakes."

"How is this going to look? I've been on holiday, more like leave, for the last two weeks for what I'm pretty sure is called mental anguish. Now I'm back and the first thing that happens is four bodies turn up in the river as a message to me and I lose evidence. I could lose my job because of a mistake like this and I really don't want to. I love my work Lestrade. It might be stressful but I love this. I love being out working a scene, be it homicide or robbery and everything in between. I don't want to be forced to leave something I love because I made a stupid mistake like thinking my camera was safe in the forensic's van."

Lestrade sat there, wondering if there was anything he could do to make her feel better about what happened, to soothe the frayed nerves of not having any control over the situation. "I won't let you lose your job over something so trivial. Hell I didn't even get demoted when Sherlock jumped and the whole of London believed he was a fake. Sure there were people who blamed me, told me if was my fault this happened because my judgment of Sherlock had been bad. Nothing happened."

Amber sniffled and smiled. "Not everyone believed he was a fake," she said looking up to the man in question who had happened to come in right at the end of the conversation. "Find anything Sherlock?" she asked as she got to her feet only to wrap herself in his arms. She flexed her raw knuckles to keep them from getting stiff.

"A muddy oxford print, size ten found in front of the van as well as several usable prints according to Anderson. I doubt he'll be able to find a match." Sherlock noted the state of her hand but didn't question it.

"If the person is in the system, I'm sure Anderson will find a match. A monkey can put the prints into the computer and press a button," Amber teased, wanting Sherlock to be his usual self. She had noticed in the last couple of days he hadn't always reacted how he usually did.

"A monkey would have more success," he snorted before pressing a kiss onto the crown of her head and releasing her only to put an arm around her waist, keeping her close to his side. He knew, almost certainly, that her stalker had been the one to take the camera. It wasn't the killer, he wasn't that stupid, but a man obsessed with Amber and working for the killer wouldn't be able to help himself. He wanted her close just encase the man was still around. There was no telling if he would try to snatch her if she were left alone for any amount of time.

"We'll agree that a monkey would be a better substitute for Anderson but we'll disagree on who would have more success on getting a match to the finger print," she chuckled before patting his chest.

Lestrade could only smile at the couple, who seemed so attracted to one another it was clear they were at least halfway in love if not so already. "Sherlock, take her back to the office. She's going to have to write up an official report on the theft. I'll have Anderson run the prints to see if the lab monkey can get a match."

Sherlock gave him a nod while Amber shook her head and laughed at that fact that Sherlock had Lestrade calling Anderson a monkey, a lab monkey no doubt. She walked away with Sherlock, listening to the sound of several officers competing in a shout off with media personal. She caught the word theft and obstructing a police investigation if it was found any media outlet had taken the materials in question.

"It wasn't the media," Sherlock announced as the two of them walked passed the crime scene tape to the nearest tube station. She was still tucked into his side but it would appear the media had enough on their hands fighting off angry cops who wanted some answers.

"I'm aware of that. However, that doesn't mean that somehow the media might get their hands on some of my photographs. It's likely that my stalker followed me, saw me leave evidence in the van, and thought 'oh this is nice' and proceeded to steal the camera and everything else in the area."

Sherlock didn't say anything as they entered the station, Amber being forced to use her OysterCard because the man still refused to actually get one himself. He rarely used the tube and when he did he usually used cash if no one else was on hand with a card. He was the reason both John and Amber raided his wallet to make up the difference in what they spent on him for use of the public transportation.

After swiping it for herself with a sigh, she slipped in with the passing crowd, careful not to run into anyone as she trailed behind her wayward boyfriend. It would appear that now that Amber was back to her level headed self that Sherlock had taken it upon himself to act more like he had weeks ago before the stress of the situation got to her.

To her surprise she managed to keep within am arms distance of Sherlock, who kept looking over his shoulder to make sure she was still there. At one point she just smiled at him, keeping pace, and giving him a light finger wave to let him know that she was still there behind him. Under normal circumstances she would have hidden away just to see his reaction to her actually missing, if he would notice at all that was. Under normal circumstances Sherlock would have probably been so wrapped up in his own mind that he wouldn't realize she wasn't there until hours later when she finally popped up asking him what the hell he was thinking for running off like he had.

She actually looked forward to being able to have Sherlock run off or when she could take off without having to look over her shoulder. She knew that one day that would happen, but until then she was going to have to deal with being attached to someone at the hip, at least when she was running about the city. It couldn't come soon enough.

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John, sitting in his chair in front of a roaring fire, was reading the paper enjoying the quietness of the flat. Megan was at work, having picked up a double shift at the hospital for a little extra spending cash. Sherlock was at a crime scene with Amber, and Mrs. Hudson was off somewhere doing whatever it was the lady did when no one was around.

He liked the quiet, having been so few and far between over the last few weeks. While he did enjoy the running around with Sherlock, he had greatly enjoyed the downtime Amber had helped bring to him by running around with Sherlock instead. This downtime allowed him to catch up on his reading, update his blog more often and clean the kitchen which Sherlock still managed to get messy though he spent much of his time in Amber's flat. He could grocery shop without Sherlock texting him to come back or to do something even if he wasn't there.

It made him happy.

Yet, he felt a little bit sad. He couldn't say he was sad not to be visiting crime scenes with the know-it-all consulting detective, but he missed the running, the adventure, and the danger that Sherlock brought with every new case. It didn't matter if it was following a crime syndicate or chasing phantom hounds on the moors. An adventure was an adventure and he missed those just a little.

But he wasn't one to admit that he missed Sherlock. The man would call his sentiment silly and blow him off, making him feel like a fool for even having mentioned he. He wondered if Sherlock missed their romps around the city. Of course he wasn't about to ask that either.

"Come with me," Sherlock's voice startled John to the point he squeaked and ripped his paper when his hands clenched.

"Jesus, a little warning would be nice," John muttered as he attempted to fold his paper up the best he could with the tears in it.

"I texted you," Sherlock said as he strode across the room to the cluttered desk, moving things around until he came across his laptop.

"No you didn't," the army doctor snapped, annoyed now that he had been scared half to death by his flatmate.

"Yes, in fact, I did," the taller man opened the computer, searched something, and began to write on a notepad close at hand which held a dried coffee ring.

John grabbed his phone off the side table, "No, you di—okay, maybe you did." John conceded after noticing the two texts for Sherlock timed about twenty minutes ago.

"See, now come on!" With a piece of paper now in hand, Sherlock headed out of the flat at a fast clip.

Feeling that familiar rush, John jumped out of his chair tucking his phone in his pocket before grabbing his coat. "Where are we going?" he called as he rushed down the stairs behind his friend and flatmate who was pretty much at the front door while he was still slipping in his coat halfway down the flight of stairs.

"To find out who stole Amber's camera." This was said just as Sherlock walked out the door, John now right on his heels wondering what the hell the other man was talking about.

"Someone stole Amber's camera?"

"Yes, weren't you listening?"

"You never said anything!" John exclaimed in annoyance as Sherlock hailed a cab.

"Swore I did. We're going to go find out who took it."

"Okay," John muttered, sliding in beside Sherlock, who read an address off the paper he had written on in the flat. "When was her camera stolen?"

Sherlock gave his companion an incredulous look which clearly conveyed his exasperation with John not being able to piece together everything he said. "At the crime scene which you refused to come along to see."

"Her _work_ camera was stolen?!" John shouted, causing the driver to flinch at the volume and tone used. He didn't even bother to apologize, too annoyed and confused as to why Sherlock didn't just explain everything like Amber often did. But then again he was talking about Sherlock, the man who's brain put things together faster than any normal person. Whether that was a learned or innate ability was yet to be figured out.

"Yes John, the camera she uses for work. It was stolen from the van when she was talking with me. I believe I know who was responsible, or someone who might know," Sherlock admitted. If he couldn't find the person who had taken the camera then he could at least find a source who knew who might have taken it. Sherlock knew all sorts of tabloids would take stolen crime scene photos. It wasn't always tabloids who would print the photos either, sometimes it was the newspapers and even the media claiming they were taken by an unidentified source within the department or media outlet. He hoped to stop that from happening before the photographs were leaked.

John's brows furrowed at the thought of what Amber was thinking and doing at the moment. He knew that things like this could end a career, especially with her being almost unstable due to the stress she was under. However he knew Sherlock and Lestrade would do anything in their power not to let her lose her job. "Why would someone want those photos?"

Sherlock shrugged. He had thought of, and discarded, many different theories in the time it took him to escort Amber to the Yard and make his way back to Baker Street. None of them seemed to be the right reason besides the proxy stalker wanting to make sure Amber still knew he was watching her despite the twenty four hour protective detail watching where she lived and the constant stream of escorts taking her wherever she wanted, or needed, to go. "If my suspicions are right, it will have been the stalker who had taken her camera, either for some personal gain or as a warning to Amber, as well as the rest of us, that she is still being watched."

"Basically he's telling her she isn't safe despite the police watching her every move," John received only a nod for his efforts. "How about the person behind all this? The one doing the killing? I doubt a stalker would jump from leaving her little cryptic messages and photos to killing over a half a dozen innocent people with no connection to Amber."

"We cannot be sure if Amber knows the victims or not. It is plausible that Amber has, in fact, had some form of contact with these people and hasn't even realized it. We cannot be sure until we get positive identification back on the earlier bodies as well as these newest ones. As for the stalker being the killer; no he is not doing this. The stalker is merely a pawn in the greater game."

John shuddered at Sherlock's causal use of the word 'game' when comparing the case to one. The last person to do that had been Moriarty and that hadn't blown over well in the end. John could still remember the vicious reaction he had had upon learning Sherlock had been alive the whole time while he had mourned the death of his best friend. He was surprised the consulting detective didn't still have a bruise on his jaw...and cheek...and eye. Yeah, looking back now, John realized he hadn't had a favorable reaction to his friend being back from the dead. In fact he remembered Lestrade having to hold him back physically after the DI had gotten over the shock of seeing the usually composed army doctor so violent. During that time John had managed to land several well placed and painful punches to the other man. Sherlock had never admitted to deserving the slight beating he had taken but it was unspoken that he had. John had suffered so much for so long. Thankfully it was all water under the bridge now and they had found themselves falling into the same routine as they had before the incident they rarely spoke of. That was, until Amber came into their lives.

He did enjoy the little redhead's presence in their life. He really did. It was just at times it seemed like Sherlock was so focused on her that he often forgot he had other, if only a few, friends. He couldn't remember the last time the man had visited Molly in the morgue, her having played a large roll in how he had tricked the world into believing he was dead. He was almost positive it hadn't been since Christmas since Sherlock had talked to Molly. Then again he could have slipped away at anytime to see the bodies of the victims who had been skinned. It was completely possible that Sherlock had seen Molly.

But Amber had been good for Sherlock in the long run. Granted he was still an insufferable bastard know-it-all, but he held his tongue a little more when insulting friends, such as Lestrade, himself, and even Megan. He smiled more, not just those little half smirks he had often gave in the past. He would occasionally ask if people wished to join him right before he rushed off somewhere in a hurry, though more often than not he ran off before announcing he was leaving. John wouldn't say it was a dramatic change in Sherlock's personality but it was noticeable enough that John found it interesting to see how much a relationship could change a person, even if they didn't know it was happening.

"Are there any ideas as to why this is all centered around Amber? I mean, there _**has**_ to be a reason doesn't there?" He finally asked, his thoughts having drifted for quite a while.

"Oh, of course there is a reason and I'm going to find out what that is when I find who took her camera this morning."

"How is Amber dealing with this?"

"Perfectly fine, not a single tear or bout of hyperventilation. Minor hysteria however," Sherlock said happily. It was common knowledge that Sherlock didn't do well around crying or screaming women. He often just ran off or stood there awkwardly as if he either wanted to scream back or ask them non-to-politely to stop.

John blinked and frowned. "Minor hysteria?"

"Nothing to worry about really. She's fine now."

"I suppose that's good," John offered in confusion before the two of them lapsed into companionable silence until the cab stopped in front of a seedy looking building which had John turning to ask Sherlock where they were. Of course, like always, he found that Sherlock was already out of the cab having paid the cabbie for the ride leaving John looking like an idiot for having just sat there instead of getting out at the same time.

With an apology to the cabbie, he exited the cab only to have to jog after his flatmate, barely managing to slip through the door the man had violently thrown open before it slammed closed. Several people scattered upon the entrance of the two newcomers while the one behind the desk at the back of the large room pointed towards a door reading 'editor'. It dawned on John that they were in the offices of some small time tabloid with a name no one but the hipsters would remember. Why they were there, well he was going to have to follow Sherlock to find that out.

"Bought any crime scene pictures today?" Sherlock lazily asked as he sat himself down in a chair that John wouldn't have touched with a ten foot pole. But then again he was talking about a man who kept body parts in the fridge of their flat where they kept the food. Sitting in a grungy looking chair across from an even grungier looking middle-aged bald man was nothing to him.

"Who the hell do you think you are barging in here like this? We had an arrangement Holmes. You leave me to my business as long as I leave you out of the tabloid," the man growled gruffly. "How did you even get this address?"

John blinked. "What arrangement?"

"You're boy wonder here found out that we deal in a little bit of...well the sale of illegally gathered information for the right price. After a nasty incident a couple of years back involving an employee of mine and arson in which Sherlock helped with, he came to me a little after he started making national headlines asking to keep any information I happened to get out of our tabloid. It was the least I could do for him keeping my little secret." The man, still unnamed though it would be better that way, seemed slightly proud of what he did for a living.

"Again I ask, gotten a hold of any crime scene photographs? Ones like the scene down off the Westminster Bridge?" Sherlock's voice had taken on a bit of an edge which spoke volumes to the fact that his patience were running thin as it was.

The man shook his head, "I haven't. Why do you ask?"

"Those pictures, if they do happen to come across your desk or any of those working for you, are part of an investigation. They were not taken by an amateur with a camera, they were taken by a paid employee of belonging to New Scotland Yard. They are, quite literally, evidence. If you do come across those photos, and whoever is selling them, it would be wise of you to inform me at once."

The man gulped noticeably, "Why would I do that?"

"First off, buying those photos alone would be a crime punishable by time in prison but it would, possibly, make it seem like you were an accomplice to the crime itself," John said making sure the point got across. Sherlock gave a slight smirk when the man before them blanched at the thought of jail time.

"Would you mind telling me how a person might have come to have these photos in their possession?"

"Of course, the camera of the police employee was stolen this morning, at the scene," Sherlock added for the shock value. It was rare that evidence went missing _before_ it managed to get to the lab.

"Well, I'll be on the look out."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed as John raised a brow having noticed the change in the tone of the man's voice. "You have seen those photos haven't you?" It was John who asked before Sherlock could even do so.

"N—no," again the man paled, stuttering over a simple one syllable word such as 'no'.

"Of course you have and you know who is trying to sell them. I should have seen it sooner," Sherlock muttered the last bit. "I need to know."

"I'm sorry but my sources are confidential."

"Of course they are," Sherlock muttered sarcastically. "John, call Lestrade and have him come down. I'm sure the DI would be interested in getting his hands on this one," he pointed towards the man in question who's eyes had gotten impossibly wide after hearing 'DI' mentioned.

"Sure," John smiled as he pulled out his phone with was now bleeping with a message from Megan on her break and one from Amber asking if he had talked to Sherlock yet. "Do you want me to say anything in particular?" he asked for the added show of the man beginning to squirm in his chair. Even Sherlock was smirking, knowing in under five seconds that man was going to break.

As they predicted, when John put the phone to his ear having pretended to press the call button, the man physically jumped out of his chair and began pacing. "Fine, alright. His name is Neil Donaghy. He's been bringing me pictures of you and so bird all cozy in restaurants and walking hand in hand through the city. I told him I don't run things on you because you're old news. About a half an hour ago he came in with printed pictures of some crime scene down by the river. They were too grisly to print and I sent him on his was with a hundred pounds for a lovely little pictures of you and this redhead," the man pulled out a four by four of Sherlock and Amber walking hand in hand down Baker Street. It had to have been taken within the last couple of weeks but then again there had been instances where the two of them had been walking like that down the street.

"Do you have an address by any chance?" Sherlock asked already knowing the answer. He pocketed the picture to the man's dismay.

"Yeah," the man muttered, flicking papers about in order to find a clean piece and a pen as well as the address in question. It took a few minutes in which John began to tap his foot while Sherlock tapped his fingers on the arms of the chair he sat in. "Here," he handed over the paper. "Now leave me the hell alone. I won't print anything about you or these God forsaken murders." He shuddered.

Sherlock took the paper, read it once, tucked it away and motioned for John to follow him out as he finally left the office of the squirming man.

"Are we going to this Donaghy's flat now? Shouldn't be contact Lestrade first?" John inquired as he once more slipped into the back of a cab following Sherlock.

"No, I'll contact him after we get the photographs back."

"Why?" John cocked his head.

"We need to have a few words with Mr. Donaghy first," Sherlock said ominously. John didn't like that look on his friend's face having only seen it when Moriarty had been threatening their lives. But he didn't say anything as they once more rode in silence to the house of the man they were sure was the person stalking Amber.

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Amber rolled her neck, feeling the crick work itself out when the disks in her neck popped audibly. She had been staring at paperwork for over an hour, paperwork she had put off doing since entering the office five and a half hours ago. She had put it off in favor of reorganizing her office, straightening it up since she hadn't been in there for a little over two weeks. Interns and other personal had been in and out of the office so many times and with her not having been there, things had gotten misplaced, including several of her files. She had taken an hour break to call Megan and her aunt before managing to get Lestrade to go out for takeaway for lunch since she wasn't willing to leave the office. After her lunch she had retreated back to her office to continue cleaning up, fixing files, and organizing everything until an hour ago Lestrade had walked into her office looking none to please with the paperwork she had yet to do.

Now she sat there, at her desk, writing out her statement of what she had done that morning leading up to the camera being stolen and what happened afterward. She had gotten stuck several times along the way. It wasn't that she couldn't remember, it was more like she wasn't sure how to word it without painting herself in an unfavorable light. It was common knowledge with the powers that be that she was going through a very stressful not-so-private problem that had started to affect her job performance. She worried that this infraction was the one that was going to get her the boot right out that door. She really did not want that.

So when Lestrade came rushing into her office, his mobile still in his hand, she was thankful for the distraction. Of course the thankfulness disappeared as soon as she saw the look on the older man's face. "Lestrade, what's wrong?"

"There's been a shooting in Chelsea."

"Okay," Amber said, trying to figure out what could have gotten him so worked up that he was visibly nervous and upset. Shootings, while not as common as say robbery, weren't that uncommon in the city. In fact she had worked several scenes involving shootings, be them self inflicted, accidental, or homicidal. "Who was involved?"

Lestrade blinked, took a deep breath, and stared the girl in the eyes. "John, Sherlock, and another man by the name of Neil Donaghy."

Amber's eyes widened in surprise at the name Lestrade said, clearly she knew who that man was. But what shocked her more was the other two. John and Sherlock. Sherlock had said he was going to the flat to do some research. He had never implied that he was going out with John to work a clue, if there even had been one.

"Who was shot Lestrade?" He didn't say anything. "Lestrade, tell me who was shot and how bad?!" She demanded harshly, her hands fisted on the back of her desk chair. "Lestrade," her voice had taken on a deadly tone even as she began to understand why he wouldn't speak.

Lestrade had the horrific pleasure of watching tears pool in the redhead's eyes as she figured out who had been shot. "It was Sherlock."

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Reviews are very much welcome!**

**A/N: So what did you all think? A little lighter, with a lot more John than usual. As a fond review requested(to whom this chapter is sort of dedicated!), I will be adding more of Sherlock and John as this story finds its way to the end, just because John is such a vital part of Sherlock's life and because he'll need some help with what I have in store. Yes that was cryptic of me and maybe a bit evil, considering I left this chapter as a cliffhanger of sorts :)**

**Oh, and a quick note on Amber's reaction to forgetting she left the memory card in the camera. I know that might seem out of character for her personality wise but she could *possibly* be facing losing her job and I believe her reaction was called for. Anyways, I hope I kept everyone in character, specifically Sherlock and John. Let me know if I didn't, or if I did. Either way.**

**As I have suggested before, this will become a series. I am not sure how many stories that will consist of but it should be pretty long. I kind of want to explore Amber and Sherlock's relationship and go through some of the ups and downs and issues they will face in the future. Oh, any suggestions of series names as well as a couple name for Sherlock and Amber? Leave suggestion in a review or PM, whichever way you are comfortable with!**

**And, to any Doctor Who fans reading this...are any of you as depressed as I am about Matt Smith leaving after the Christmas Special? I literally curled in a ball and cried...and no, I'm not kidding. I am that much of a fangirl. Hell I had the same reaction to the series two finale of Sherlock, then again who didn't!**

**Okay, until next time my lovelies!**


	35. Chapter 33

_Hello there once more. Welcome to the Wednesday chapter of Breaking the Barrier. May the chapter be enjoyable and the reviews full of praise! _

_**ironhideandratchet4ever:** Well it would appear you didn't have to wait too long for the next update. I'm happy to hear you love the story. I hope you enjoy the chapter!_

_**Twilighterheart xxxx:** Here is your update! Enjoy!_

_**bored411:** Yes a cliffhanger, I am so evil *not so evil laugh*. There are more of those to come. Enjoy as always! _

_**assto:** I'm glad you loved it. Oh I hope that we will be pleased with the twelwth Doctor but I'm still holding out hope that it was some kind of sick joke and that Matt Smith isn't leaving. I will literally cry myself to death come the Christmas special! On a different note, enjoy the chapter!_

_**Empress of Verace:** I am evil, well mildly so. Questions will be answered as well as prompted, hopefully, from this chapter. Enjoy!_

_**CarminaxBuranax:** I'm glad you loved seeing John and Sherlock on the case together, expect more of that. I enjoyed writing them together and felt that since I never addressed how Sherlock came "back from the dead", I might as well explain how John felt. I can't wait to see how he reacts in the show! You're question of if Sherlock is alright or not will be answered! I promise! I've got a ton of ideas for the next story and the ones to follow, I'm sure we'll see the trio running around London at some point or another. Enjoy the chapter!_

_**Yorukazeangel:** I didn't so much have a moment of silence when I heard Matt Smith was leaving, I pretty much tossed my computer aside cried, and then pouted for a good two hours. I'm still not over it! Thank you for the suggestion of the couple name, Hevons is cute! Hope you enjoy the chapter!_

_**lightsabove:** Thank you and I'm glad to hear I wasn't the only one who wailed about the news! Enjoy!_

_**Loki'sdreamer:** Yes, poor Sherlock. Keep that thought in mind for a while! *evil grin*. Enjoy the chapter!_

_**Gwilwillith:** Thank you! Enjoy!_

_**The Yoshinator**: Lol, interesting reaction to the chapter. I hope this calms you down a bit. Yes, Matt Smith is scheduled to leave after the Christmas special. I was surprised at first (still am if I'm honest) because I too thought he was signed on for all of series eight. Enjoy the chapter. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. I own the plot, the evil things I put the characters through, Amber, Megan, and anything else you don't recognize!_

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**[033]**

Amber rushed into the A&E, her eyes wide with concern, her face pale with fear. She looked around at the crowded waiting room before making a beeline for the check-in windows which housed two very hectic and stressed looking nurses trying desperately to get their work done and not forget anything or anyone in the process.

"Excuse me?" she questioned softly to one of the nurses who, at the moment, wasn't helping a soon-to-be patient of the hospital.

The little brunette looked up from her file, her pale blue doe eyes blinked rapidly as she looked at the redhead standing there pale as a ghost and biting at her bottom lip roughly. The nurse noticed that woman's hand was bandaged but the bruises still visible beneath the wrapping. Thinking she was looking for paperwork to fill out, she pulled out the papers she would need before sliding them across the counter. "Here you go miss. It's about an hour wait for minor injuries, if not longer."

The redhead shook her head politely and gently slide the papers back to the woman. "I'm not here for myself. My boyfriend was brought in earlier. I'm looking for him."

The nurses eyes softened as she saw the tears glossing over the green of the redhead's eyes. "Could you give me his name please? I might be able to direct you to where he is now."

Amber took a deep breath to clear her mind and so her voice didn't tremble. "Um, Sherlock Holmes. He was probably brought in with his friend John Watson. John wasn't admitted, Sherlock was," she explained, her mind still reeling with what she had learned not more than an hour ago.

She waited with more patience than she realized she should have at that moment while the nurse typed Sherlock's name into the computer. Finally the nurse nodded lightly and looked up at her with somewhat sorrowful eyes. "He's been moved to a private room. Unfortunately visitors are not allowed unless you are family. Mr. Watson was an exception because he came in with him."

The redhead blinked, several times, before she realized that she had just been told she wasn't allowed to see Sherlock. "Excused me? I was told I would be allowed to see him." Her voice was threaded with something akin to anger bordering on breaking down.

"I'm sorry ma'am but I was given specific orders not to allow anyone but family in the room until the police arrived."

Amber blinked again, a brilliant idea striking her. "I am with the police," she forced as she fished around her pocket for her identification. Sure she wasn't an actual officer or detective but she wasn't quite lying about working for Scotland Yard.

The nurse gave her an incredulous look even as she passed over her identification. It might have read forensics but she still worked for New Scotland Yard, and there for the police. Loopholes, she loved them.

With a raised brow the nurse looked over the ID carefully. "You said he was your boyfriend, is that also true?"

"Yes he is. Is there a problem with that?" Her tone was a little harsh but from the look she was now getting, one that was clearly as far from 'I'm so sorry' as one could get, her tone was appropriate. She took back her ID when it was offered, took a deep breath and started again all the while trying to be nicer to the woman who was only doing her job. "It's been a really, and I mean REALLY bad day. I didn't mean to snap or break rules or bend them. But my superior called ahead, said I would be coming. I'm not sure who he talked to or if he has even managed to get a hold of anyone. I rushed out of the office when I got the news."

Once more the look on the young nurse's face softened. "You're name was Amberlyn Devons, correct?" Amber nodded softly. "I'll ask the head nurse if you're on the list of allowed visitors. The system might not have been updated since Mr. Holmes was admitted."

"Thank you so much," she breathed a sigh of relief. With all the stress in her life she was jumping at the throat of everyone she met. She had to remember to take a deep breath, pull herself back, and look at the situation and act accordingly. If she could do that, she wouldn't put everyone on the defensive. However, all she wanted to do now was find Sherlock and hold onto him tightly...and never let go.

"If you could just have a seat, I'll be right back Ms. Devons."

"Sure," Amber replied and walked off to take an available seat in the waiting room. She received a few odd looks, the kind of look that said the person had seen her somewhere before but couldn't quite place her face. She had to blame the tabloids and papers who had gotten their hands on pictures of her and Sherlock as well as her on previous crime scenes. She hated this kind of attention but it happened when working high profile crimes. She would live with it because she enjoyed her job. If people recognized her then so be it. She wasn't about to let it affect her.

A very long five minutes passed before Amber was once more approached by the same young nurse she had talked to. She came scurrying from the back with at small smile on her face. The smile was enough to cause Amber to relax to the point where she too was smiling.

"I am so sorry for the wait and I'm sorry for the trouble. The system wasn't updated when we got word of who was allowed up to see Mr. Holmes."

"So I can go see him then?"

"Oh yes, of course. Let me get you a floor and room number." Amber followed the nurse back to where they had been standing five minutes ago. She was give a small piece of paper with both the floor and room number scrawled across it. She thanked the woman and headed to the back with the permission of the nurse. She was caught off balance when she was stopped by a security guard. She had a lovely ten minute argument with the man before he finally conceded that she was allowed back there and pointed her in the direction of the lifts which would take her to the higher floors.

She finally found the wing in which Sherlock's room was located and looked for the number. The door was closed and out of habit she knocked. It was John who came to answer it, not at all surprised to see Amber standing there frazzled and looking as if several years of her life had been scared away. He opened the door allowing her access to the room.

Her heart nearly broke at the sight of Sherlock in the bed, dressed in a hospital gown, his left arm in a sling, and stitches on the side of his forehead. Under his eyes were dark bruises, a tell-tale sign of physical injury and stress. But it was a relief to see that he was fine besides a few minor injuries aside from the bullet wound that was.

She had to fight herself from running across the room to the bed, instead taking a slow, if not unsteady, walk to the bed. She gripped the railing, which was standard on all hospital beds, and gripped it with her good hand, her knuckles on that hand turning white with the force she applied to keep herself from throwing herself at Sherlock laying there. Hearing he had been shot, hearing that he was in the hospital, it had nearly torn her to pieces shattering her world. She knew she loved him, oh lord did she know that, but she hadn't realized how much until hearing those words from Lestrade.

"Lestrade," Sherlock mumbled, his drug hazed eyes making contact with her glittering ones.

She smirked down at him, lifting her injured hand to place it on his cheek, lightly stroking her thumb across one of the hallow bruise just under his eye. "Of course," she chuckled leaning down to give him a tender kiss on the lips. "Did you really believe that he wouldn't tell me?" She felt a tap on her shoulder, turned back and saw John offering her the chair he had been sitting in beside the bed. She shook her head no, but smiled in thanks despite having turned down the offer.

"Sit," Sherlock ordered, almost lightly. She once more shook her head. "Amber sit down," he demanded now, his voice and face telling her she had no other option.

"I've got a better idea," she grinned reusing her statement from that morning when talking about their transport to the crime scene. She watched as he rose a brow and his mouth contorted into a confused frown.

She slipped out of her coat, tossing it haphazardly across the room to land on the small couch that was in the private room. She released the guard on the railing, putting it down so that she could slip into the bed with him. She snuggled down so that her head was resting carefully on his chest, his good arm going to wrap around her shoulders as she laid on her side, pressed flush against him. "I like this idea," she mumbled into his chest. Physical contact gave her solid proof that he was alright, he was there right under her fingers, and he was fine. He hadn't died, he hadn't had to have surgery, he was going to be right as rain in a couple of weeks.

Yet, though she knew this for a fact, she still felt a few tears slip from her eyes as she buried her head into his chest. She didn't cry, just cuddled against him tightly feeling his arm tighten around her in a comforting manner. She knew, because if he looked down he could see her fighting the crying fit.

John chuckled beside them, oblivious to the fact that Amber was on the verge of crying. He settled himself back in his chair, enjoying the sight of his flatmate taking comfort in the little redhead curled into him and her taking comfort in him. "How was your day?" he asked of the Amber.

Not even bothering to roll over to look at John, she closed her eyes now and took a deep breath taking in the heady scent that only belonged to the consulting detective. "After the camera was stolen, it was rather dull," her voice hadn't even cracked, something she was so very thankful for. "Paperwork, straightening my office which was in terrible need of it considering I'd been out for two weeks. Then I get the memo that Sherlock had been shot and the day got a little less dull," she wanted to chuckle about that, how Sherlock always managed to make the days not so boring, yet she just couldn't. Maybe in the future, when the wound was no longer visible, only a small scar marring his skin, would she be able to joke about it. For now she just couldn't bring herself to do so.

"That tends to happen with Sherlock," John scoffed playfully, knowing that was the thing Amber needed to keep a level headed. He could now hear the pain and worry just under the surface in her voice. She was raw, but not frantic. He was glad to see that she wasn't breaking down, as most women would when learning someone close to them had been shot.

"So tell me John, Sherlock, what lead you lot to this exact moment," she prompted, already having an idea of who was going to answer and to what extent.

"It was ever so dull." Amber actually saw Sherlock roll his eyes at her. She would have whacked him if he hadn't of been injured and if she hadn't of expected him to say something like that.

Instead she just sighed, "Alright John, you tell me what happened."

With that John launched into the long version of the story of their adventures of the day, starting with how John had been enjoying an unusually quiet morning in his flat. Halfway through the story, knocking sounded on the door stopping John's speech and getting Amber to sigh just as the door opened without any prompting. It was a doctor who walked in, not that any of them were surprised.

The doctor looked at the sight before her. Her patient was laying in his bed, his friend in the chair beside the bed, and a redhead curled into his side. That sight alone, while adorable, caused her to raise an eyebrow. "Explain to me why she is in your bed Mr. Holmes? You know the hospital's policy, one person per bed. Does your female companion need a bed of her own, perhaps to finish her nap?" Harsh, yes, but effective usually.

Amber opened her eyes and narrowed them as she turned her head to focus on the snarky doctor standing there with a chart in her hand and her toe tapping against the tiled flooring. "I am most certainly awake as well as aware of hospital policy on shared bed use. You'll have to take into consideration that I thought Sherlock had died upon hearing he had been shot. I am not moving, for anything." With that she closed her eyes once more and snuggled closer to Sherlock who could only give a small half smile at his girlfriend's way of handling the overbearing doctor.

Taken aback, the doctor blinked a couple of times before gaining her footing. "And you are miss?"

"Amber Devons and still, no I'm not moving," she didn't raise her voice or put any edge into her tone. She simply stated the truth and stayed where she lay in the bed ignoring the woman who had the audacity to make an offended noise before looking over the chart in her hands.

"Well, all your tests have come back negative. No hemorrhaging, major swelling, or torn vessels. We got the bleeding of the bullet wound under control, seeing as it was a through and through. What we are more concerned about is the blow to the head. You've got a concussion and as you've been informed we're going to keep you over night for observation. Baring any complications you will be released in the morning. If you need anything I'll be around the hospital and there is a call button for the nurses station. I'll see you in a little bit Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock began to mutter something about not needing to stay the night, followed by something rude, but Amber managed to poke him roughly in the ribs allowing the doctor to leave without having to stick around longer than anyone would have been comfortable with. Before she shut the door she poked her head back in saying, "Visiting hours are over at twenty one hundred."

Amber snorted after she heard the door shut quietly. "I'm not moving," she mumbled causing John to chuckle, Sherlock to grin, and herself to smile widely. "Continue John," she ushered the army doctor who couldn't only shake his head at the duo on the bed. They didn't even realize how similar they truly were at times. Stubbornness seemed to be in both their natures.

He did as requested and jumped right back into the tale of Sherlock and his adventure across the city which had lead them to the point they were now. He had finished the story just as Amber began to yawn. It wasn't so much about being tired, it was more that she was just emotionally drained. The last few days, before today that was, had been rather stress free thanks to being on holiday. Today alone, combining the fact that she had vented to Sherlock, worked a crime scene, had her camera stolen, and then hearing Sherlock being injured, had been one of the more stressful days she had had recently. The news alone about Sherlock being shot had added so much adrenaline to her system that now that she was calm, her body just told her to sleep.

As she settled in for a long night beside Sherlock, she listened in silence as Sherlock and John started arguing about why exactly Sherlock had to be stuck in a hospital when he was perfectly fine. He even harped on having to have his arm in a sling when it only hurt a little. Amber wanted to mention that fact that Sherlock was currently on pain medication, which would explain why his arm didn't hurt as much as it probably should have. Of course Sherlock also had to grumble and moan and wonder who was paying for it. That caused John to shot a glance at Amber who had, at that moment, turned to look at him with sleepy eyes. She gave him a nod as an answer to the silent question asked. Neither of them planned on telling Sherlock, he'd deduce it soon enough if they didn't give him more pain medication. And when he did find out, well he wasn't going to be happy about it.

Still listening to Sherlock ramble on, and John huffing his responses, Amber fell into her own thoughts. She had learned, through the course of John's recounting of the events of the day, that Sherlock had been caught off guard when Neil Donaghy had pulled a gun. The man had managed to fire, hitting Sherlock in the shoulder, before John could pull his own gun to defend them. When Donaghy had aimed to fire again at Sherlock, who had in his shocked state, fallen and hit his head, John pulled the trigger. Donaghy had barely made it out of the flat in which the incident had occurred, but Lestrade had assured John that he was completely within the law to do what he had done.

Amber let out another yawn, blinking her eyes at the force of it. She continued to listen for as long as she could before she finally lapsed into sleep curled tightly into Sherlock's side, her hand on his chest holding onto the fabric of his hospital gown, hearing the steady beat of his heart in her ear. Just as she was on verge of falling into the black oblivion, she felt Sherlock's arm tighten his grip on her, his thumb having begun to rub small soothing circles into the flesh of her hip where her shirt had ridden up. She smiled and finally fell into the darkness, content now that he was alright and she was with him.

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It had to be hours later when Amber woke up. The room was dark, the blinds were drawn, and John was missing. Sherlock was between dosing and wakefulness, a byproduct of the medication he was on. She yawned once, stretched her legs and rolled over onto her other side. Sherlock adjusted around her, his arm coming to land on her stomach while laying across her chest. She smiled softly and closed her eyes until she caught sight of a figure sitting across the room on the small couch.

As panic began to set in, she blinked rapidly to clear her eyes before remembering that she had been sleeping in her contacts. She growled herself, blinked once more, and felt her contacts slip back into place. Even in the dark she could make out Mycroft's form and the panic disappeared in a puff of laughter. "I sure hope Sherlock was fully awake when you got here. He won't be pleased to wake up now and see you, not that I'm surprised you're here."

Mycroft gave a soft chuckle. "He wasn't pleased, but with you fast asleep in his arms he was more inclined to listen to me instead of arguing as usual."

"You're welcome then," she rolled her eyes before lacing her fingers with those of Sherlock. "How long have you been here anyways?"

"About an hour or so. I am only here to ensure that my brother stays."

"I've got that taken care of Mycroft, you don't have to worry about it. As long as I'm in his bed he won't go anywhere without me," she gave a cocky grin even if he couldn't see it in the dark. She had a point, Sherlock rarely left her in the middle of the night, and given the close quarters of the bed, she doubted he would try to slip away any time soon. "They've also got him so drugged I doubt he could walk out of here on his own accord."

"I would hope so. He might say that wound of his is nothing but according to the doctors, just a couple millimeters in any direction and a vital artery would have been hit. We'd be in a very different situation if that had happened."

Amber felt her stomach flip. "I'd be burying him."

"We'd all be burying him, for real this time. There wouldn't have been a way for him to fake that," there was genuine concern and worry in the older sibling's voice. Despite their issues, whatever they might have been, Mycroft cared for Sherlock deeply and worried about his well being all the time.

She fought the tears and managed to calm herself enough that she let out a soft sigh which Mycroft couldn't hear. "However, he's perfectly fine."

"I heard that you had an interesting day as well," the older Holmes sibling stated rather nonchalantly as a way of changing the subject matter.

She rolled her eyes in the dark, yawned, and fiddled with Sherlock's fingertips. "My stalker stole my work camera today," she murmured as if that would explain everything. She already knew that Mycroft knew almost all the assorted details. He might claim to only hold a minor place in the government but anyone close to Sherlock knew otherwise.

"Have you told Sherlock yet about the stalker, how you know him that is?"

She allowed surprise to leak into her voice, "Better term; knew him."

"Okay, have you told him that you knew the man then?"

She shook her head, praying that Sherlock was sleeping. She felt his steady breathing against her back, him having turned over slightly in his sleep so that he was spooning her smaller frame against his taller one. He was asleep from what she could tell, and if not, she doubted he would remember what they were talking about. "No, I haven't informed him yet. I didn't even know it was Neil until today. He was always such a sweet bloke."

"How about that DI? Have you informed him?"

Amber snorted lightly. "Unfortunately he saw my reaction to hearing the name. Lestrade allowed me the rest of the day off but tomorrow I'll have to sit down with him and explain. I'm not even sure if Neil is alive or dead."

"According to the hospital records, Neil Donaghy was pronounced dead upon arrival to the hospital. Mr. Watson is lucky this shooting was in self-defense."

Her brows furrowed. "What do you mean _this_ shooting?"

Mycroft gave a small scoffing laugh. "I'm sure if you asked him he'd tell you." She saw the man get up, grabbing for his umbrella, making to leave the room now. "I'll leave you to your sleep. Will we still meet at the end of the month per our agreement?"

"Of course," she said with annoyance. "One question," she gathered his attention away from the door. "How did you convince the hospital staff that I could stay? I'm not exactly family."

Mycroft gave a very unbecoming shrug, opening the door. "You'd have to ask Sherlock about that. Visiting hours have long since passed and John was gone before I arrived. Goodnight Amberlyn."

"Goodnight Mycroft," she whispered as she heard the door click shut.

She sighed, resting her head the best she could against both Sherlock's arm and the pillow. She suddenly didn't feel like sleeping any longer. Instead, she carefully pulled herself out of Sherlock's hold, slipping out of the bed landing on her shoe covered feet. She walked her way quietly to the couch where she took off her heels leaving her in only a pair of mismatched socks. She hadn't even realized she had done that again. Sherlock had mentioned it days ago that she often forgot to wear matching socks. She didn't have the nerve to tell him it was something she did to cheer herself up. Looking down at her mismatched feet made her smile. She had never figured out why, but it had worked since she was a small child.

She wandered to the window, moving the blinds so that she could look out at the city below. The streets were still busy and glancing at the clock she noticed that it wasn't quite past midnight. She leaned against the wall, looking down, seeing all the lights and even people walking around. All those people going about their normal lives while she was fighting a battle none of them could understand. She was tad bit envious of them all.

She began to think of everything that had happened in such a short period of time. She had met one of the most amazing men she had ever had the privilege of meeting and here she was almost six months later, sleeping in the same bed as him. She had learned Brianna, her sister she had thought was dead, was alive somewhere being held hostage. She had faced down packages from a stalker and sadistic taunts from a killer. She had seen her best friend enter a stable relationship and for once in her life she actually felt like she belonged somewhere.

Yet, the more she realized what exactly was happening in her life, she was beginning to understand that there might not be a safe way out of this. Sherlock had been shot by a henchman to the one truly after her. And with that man now laying in the morgue there was no one to tell the police who was behind everything and, more importantly, why it was happening. If a simple stalker was capable of putting a bullet in someone she loved, what was a killer capable of doing to her or someone she was close to? She worried that she wouldn't make it out alive or that Sherlock or John or Amber or Mrs. Hudson or Lestrade might be hurt somehow. She didn't want that to happen but the more she thought about it, the more she noticed that there might not be away around it. That scared her more than any message from a killer or package from a stalker could ever do.

She crossed her arms as she felt a shiver run up her spine. Trying to take her mind of her dark thoughts, she turned her head so she could look at Sherlock still sleeping on the bed. It was rare that she actually got to witness him sleeping. He rarely slept during a case and when he did it was only to either please her or because his body forced him to sleep before he collapsed. When he did decide to sleep, he always fell asleep long after she had already done so and he was always up before she woke in the mornings. He looked so normal, boyish almost. He didn't look like the consulting detective she knew he was. He wasn't the man running around the city, pissing people off, or making national headlines. Sleeping, he was simply Sherlock Holmes, the man she was head over heels for.

Sighing, she crossed the room once more to sit on the couch, curling knees to her chest as she thought about what her family would think. Her sisters had never favored her marrying Scot, neither had her aunt and uncle. Her brother had long since been gone as had her parents. The divorce had come as a God send, at least from her family's point of view. The death of her premature son hadn't been, that had been a tragedy they calmed she was too young to handle. Her sisters had praised her for getting her life back, saying she was to young to have been attached and tied down like that.

Now at twenty eight, nearly twenty nine, years of age she was in love again. She knew where her aunt and uncle stood on the topic. Her aunt knew of Sherlock only through the papers as did her uncle and cousins. None of them had been pleased to hear that Amber was involved with him but upon hearing the happiness in her voice, she knew that they wouldn't disagree that she deserved to be happy with someone. He made her feel happy even when she wanted to slap him when he was irritating her and everyone else. He treated her right, didn't yell at her, didn't call her names, and most certainly he had never laid a hand on her violently. He would make rude comments yes, but that was just how he was. She understood when he commented on her intelligence or how it took her a little longer to keep up with his train of thought. He wasn't being intentionally mean about it and would, more often than not, apologize for it later when he realized what he had said to her. He held her like she was precious, smiled at her like she was his light, and touched her like no one had before.

That alone, thinking of Sherlock, lulled her away from the fear and the worry back into the realm of calmness, a place she desperately needed to be. Though she wasn't as frantic as she had been, her mind still often raced, her heart rate still increased, and sometimes her hands did shake. It was only one day, one day out of so many in which she had felt so calm and she hoped, really hoped, that she could keep herself that way. An overreaction at this point could cost her more than just her camera.

With a heavy sigh, she stretched herself out on the couch staring at the dark ceiling above her. She allowed her eyes to close for a moment. The next thing she knew, it was morning and Sherlock's coat was laid across her like a blanket.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Reviews are always welcome: **

**A/N: So, what did you think? I wasn't that evil now was I? However, well, I might get eviler later on. Remember I have about 7 chapters left and they will be getting progressively more dangerous and I promise there will be cliffhangers. Now, I know this story is rated M. I was originally going to have a mature scene in this story, though at this point I don't think there will be. I hope none of you are mad about that. I know I've hinted at sex before, but that was mostly just want it was, hinting. Right now it's getting to the climax (no pun intended) of the story and I don't think they have time for those kinds of activities(maybe). But the next story following this will have some of those mature themes as Amber and Sherlock's relationship picks up and evolves. **

**As for the sequel, I already have a name for it but I'm struggling with a name for the series over all. I'm going between "The Study of Life" or "The Amberlyn Chronicles". Which do you all like better? Or maybe you have suggestions? Let me know. **

**I'm also going to be putting a poll up for Amber and Sherlock's couple name in the next few days. So let me know if you have any suggestions. So far through the series I have heard Amberlock, Shamber(Sherlock and Amber), and Hevons(Holmes and Devons). **

**Oh and a great big thanks to everyone reading this story, following it, favoriting it, and reviewing it. I have nearly hit 200 reviews, which is an all time high on anything I have ever written. I never thought I'd get anywhere near that number! You guys are so awesome and have been so supportive. Seeing an email of a review or new fav/follow just makes my day. Even if it's only one! **

**And finally some shameless advertising. I have a tumblr, you can either look it up on my profile (if you want/have a tumblr) or type this into your bar lostinthetardisifoundmywayhome . tumblr . com. Of course take out the the spaces. So yeah, ignore this if you want, I usually don't do this. I just felt like stating it!**

**Okay, until next time my lovelies! **


	36. Chapter 34

_It is Sunday once more my lovely readers and as usual you get your bi-weekly dose of this story! Enjoy as always and please be sure to read the full author's note at the bottom! Oh, and I'm worried about OOC issues in this chapter, please let me know!_

_**Empress of Verace:** Wow, you get out of school late. I mean I don't know if you're in highschool or university but that's late. I've been out almost a month now. I wish you luck on your exams! Enjoy the update!_

_**Protagonist of Life:** Thank you! Enjoy the chapter!_

_**The Yoshinator:** I'm stuck between Hevons and Amberlock as well! It's so funny because it appears people are split evenly on the two, which is making picking harder. I think a poll is in order lol. Hope you enjoy the chapter. _

_**bored411:** Thank you! I know! I cannot believe this story is coming to an end. I mean, I've been working on it for a year. But we have a sequel to look forward to as well as many more stories to come. I wouldn't say there is much 'action' in the coming chapters (one of them yes). You'll see. Enjoy the update!_

_**CarminaxBuranax:** I am glad you liked the ending and that you loved that part. It was my favorite part to write because all I could see was Amber just kind of laying there not moving because she just couldn't leave him. Look out for more John, and even Mycroft, in the coming chapters. Enjoy the chapter, and looking forward to hearing what you think! _

_**Yorukazeangel:** Thank you! I don't think the ending of this story will be evil, the parts from here on out will be that's for sure, but the ending will most certainly be amazing, at least I hope you all see it as amazing. I hope you enjoy the chapter!_

_**Loki'sdreamer:** I am so glad everyone is okay with me not putting smut in here. I know most people reading M rated stories expect it but I'm aiming that M for this story to be more about the violence and some of the language. So enjoy the chapter as always!_

_**Gwilwillith:** Thank you so much! I hope I can keep them balanced as this story flows into the next one. Enjoy the chapter!_

_**Twilighterheart xxxx:** Is it evil of me to say that I am so happy to hear that you are obsessed with this story? I mean that's normal right? Lol. I hope you enjoy this chapter!_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot, Amber, Megan, and the assorted animals that Amber owns. _

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**[034]**

Amber snuggled deeper into Sherlock's coat, trying desperately to catch hold of sleep before it slipped from her grasp. As had become usual, she wasn't able to slip back into blissful sleep. Instead she heard the distinct sounds of Sherlock puttering about the room with John whispering complaints about how it was still early morning and he wasn't going to be discharged until later.

She had to fight the smile which wanted to form from them having thought she was still asleep on the couch. If Sherlock had been paying as much attention to her as he usually did, he would have noticed her breathing had changed which would have signaled that she wasn't quite sleeping any longer. But as it was, he had been paying more attention to John and getting the hell out of the hospital as fast as possible.

Seeing this as a perfect moment to just relax, she continued to pretend as if she were sleeping. Keeping her eyes shut, she managed to regulate her breathing to the point that it looked like she was still sleeping soundly on the couch, a trick she had perfected in her youth. She listened to them argue for a moment before John changed the topic, having grown annoyed with Sherlock's grumbling.

"How did you manage to convince the hospital staff to allow Amber to spend the night?" he asked from somewhere across the room. If she had to hazard a guess she would pinpoint his location as the same chair he had been before she had passed out the day before.

Sherlock scoffed, "It was easy. I said she was my wife."

She heard John sputter as she felt her heart begin to thump wildly in her chest. Her stomach did a flip flop before her mind shot down the idea, recalling how her first marriage had ended. She loved Sherlock, and she had figured that, in someway, he loved her. But that wasn't saying they were anywhere close to marriage, nowhere near it in fact. The idea of marriage, now that she wasn't a starry eyed young woman, scared her. Relationships changed with marriage. But even knowing what she did, she couldn't help but want to smile at being called Sherlock's wife. She would be proud if she was. One day, maybe she would have the pleasure of being able to do so. For now she was just happy to be called his girlfriend.

"And they believed you? It would have been written in your file if you had actually been married," John rambled aimlessly.

Sherlock snorted, "The nurses and doctors are easy enough to fool. Just told them we were recently married and I hadn't had the chance to change my information."

Amber snorted before she could even stop herself. The room fell silent as both men realized Amber was now 'waking' up. Thankfully, they hadn't noticed she had been awake for the full duration of their short conversation on tricking the medical staff.

She 'woke' with a yawn, sitting up and stretching her arms skyward. "Good morning," she greeted on a yawn. She rubbed her eyes this time, careful not to rub to hard because she still had her contacts in.

"Good morning," John greeted lightly. "I had Megan pack a couple items of clothing for you to change into. She figured you wouldn't want to stay in the same clothes from yesterday."

Amber's brows rose. Megan was thoughtful, yes, but she wouldn't have thought of giving John a set of clothing for her to change into. She would have been more concerned with Amber's emotional state after learning of Sherlock being injured. Whether or not she was wearing the same clothes didn't matter, at least not to the two of them anyways. It was how she was doing emotionally.

"Thank you Sherlock," she spoke with a smile as she headed for the pile of fabric on the bed. She swept it up into her arms.

"How did you know?"

"Does it need to be asked?" she grinned at him, seeing he looked paler than normal, his dark curls a little messy, his blue-gray eyes still glossed over with pain medication. His arm was in the sling but he was in his purple shirt, the one she was very fond of, and a pair of trousers. His feet were bare, his shoes sitting on the floor beside the couch. She hadn't even noticed them the night before.

When he didn't answer, she walked passed him in order to get to the bathroom. She gave him a quick peck on the lips as she passed. When she closed the door behind her Sherlock sighed, turning to face his friend and flatmate.

"How did she know?" John inquired curiously, having already gotten used to Sherlock and Amber expressing their affection for one another.

"She's known Megan for most of her life. I'm sure she figured out that in situations such as this clothing means nothing."

"But how did she know it was you who asked me to get the clothes. I could have thought of it on my own," John wasn't offended in the least, in fact he was amazed that Amber could deduce things as well as Sherlock at moments.

Sherlock smiled in the direction of the door to the bathroom. "She didn't. It was a good guess on her part."

John shook his head as he stood up. "I'm going to find the doctor and see if we can't get you out of here now. You seem perfectly fine to me."

"Is that your opinion as a doctor or as my friend?"

"My opinion as a man who would rather not have to hit you when you become an overbearing pain in the arse," John tossed out as he exited the room. He could actually hear Sherlock's laugh just before the door shut behind him.

A few moments later Amber strolled out of the bathroom, her clothes from yesterday folded neatly in her hands. She smiled at Sherlock, "How is your head?"

Sherlock, for a moment, couldn't understand what she was asking. His head was perfectly fine. "It's fine. Why?"

She smirked lightly, her glasses now situated on her nose, her contact case sitting neatly on top of her dirty clothing. She set the pile on the couch and walked her way, still barefoot in mismatched socks, to Sherlock. She stood on her tip toes, pulled his head down to her lips and kissed the cut on his forehead which held four little stitches. "You've got stitches in your head, love. I'm glad the meds they've got you on are helping."

He blinked down at her, his face still between her hands and still on her tip-toes. His arms wrapped around her waist just before she slammed down flat on her feet. Her arms slipped around his waist, her face burying into his chest as she let out a shuddering sob. He held her as she cried silently into his shirt.

Amber hadn't felt the rush of emotions the day before, no she had simply been grateful that Sherlock was alright. Now, seeing him up and moving, seeing him so pale and looking as though he was in pain, it made the feelings come crashing down. She hadn't realized, even when she had been talking to Mycroft, how close she could have come to losing him.

"For a moment," she whispered. "I thought you had died. Lestrade wouldn't tell me anything and I thought..." she choked on her own tears. "I thought you had died."

"Obviously I'm right here, perfectly fine." He laid his chin on the top of her head as she just kind of clung to him. He didn't have to ask why she was crying, he understood despite that fact that he was standing there in her arms not at all dead. It was fear and the thought of losing him which made her cry.

"I know, I know. Just give me a moment," she mumbled against his shirt as she tried to stop herself from crying.

John walked in at that moment, seeing the two of them embracing tightly, Amber's head buried in Sherlock's purple shirt. From what the other man could tell the redhead had been crying, and just like Sherlock, he didn't even have to ask why she was crying. He knew and didn't say anything about it as he slowly closed the door behind him.

"You're being discharged now. The paperwork is waiting for us," John stated softly watching as Amber shuddered once before pulling away from Sherlock. She swiped at the tears and gave both men a watery smile.

"Thank God. Um," she furrowed her brows as she walked to her shoes, sitting on the couch, putting them on. "I have to go talk to Lestrade."

"Why?" Sherlock inquired as she slipped into her coat.

As she helped Sherlock into his coat, watching John smirk at how they moved in unison towards the same goal, she explained, "It's a matter concerning the man who shot you."

"Your stalker, you mean?" John asked, confused, as the trio walked out of the room after gathering all their things. Amber had her clothes tucked under her arm, her contact case having already been stuck in her coat pocket.

Amber nodded, "Yes. It's about him. Neil Donaghy." She bit at her lip.

"Lestrade most likely wants to see if there is any connection between you and him," John said, thinking it was the most logical conclusion as to why the DI would want to talk to her.

"No," Sherlock mumbled. "There IS a connection between you and Mr. Donaghy," the way he spit out the name with venom had both John and Amber looking at him curiously. "What was your connection to him?"

She blinked and sighed. Resigned to having to tell him, she mumbled, "You two can come along to my meeting with Lestrade if you wish. I'd rather explain it all at once rather than have to explain it twice, if not three times." She sighed once more. "We'll pick up Megan on the way. I need to drop this stuff of anyways," she motioned to the clothing under her arms. "And of course take care of the animals."

"Megan and I took care of that this morning," John interjected before she could say anything else. "Last night too," he added.

She smiled at him. "Thank you." He simply nodded before they went about getting Sherlock discharged from the hospital.

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Amber tugged the collar of her peacoat closer to her as both she and John exited the cab in front of 221 Baker Street. It was nearing the end of March, yet winter was still holding on with a death grip. She stood on the pavement clothing under her arm, holding out her free hand to help Sherlock out. He refused the offer of help, which caused both Amber and John to roll their eyes, but once he was standing beside her, he grasped her hand in his, giving her a thankful smile before paying the cabbie.

They walked in silence into the building where she headed to her flat below to deposit her things while John went to gather Megan. Sherlock wandered off to tell Mrs. Hudson that he was perfectly fine and that there was no reason to fuss, though they all knew that the older woman would do so just for her own peace of mind.

Amber stopped off to give Rose a little snuggle seeing as it had been a few days since had last had major contact with the little rabbit, as well as scratched Nix behind the ears enjoying the fact that the cat began to purr violently at the attention. She felt so guilty that this whole thing was starting to effect her furry little friends. She'd be happy when she could just sit on her living room floor, watching the cat play tag with the rabbit. She had been amazed when she first saw the two of them play in such a manner a little over a month and a half ago. She had been sure that Nix was going to kill Rose but then she saw the cat bop the rabbit on the head and run, the rabbit hopping after her. She had giggled at the sight.

Smiling, finally calm and relaxed, she slipped Rose back into her hutch, patted Nix on the head softly, and grabbed her mobile charger so that she could charge her phone at the office. It had gone nearly twenty four hours now without a charging and now it was dieing. She gathered up a purse, one of her favorite older more spacious ones, tucking her things into it, before changing her heels for a pair of trainers. With that she was out the door and up the stairs to 221B.

There she found the whole gang, including Lestrade to her surprise. "How long was I down in my flat?" She frowned, brows drawn together.

"Twenty four minutes," Sherlock said from his spot in his chair where he had been waiting for her.

With a cocked brow she dropped her purse, shed her coat and shoes, and made her way to Sherlock where she sat herself on the floor in front of him. She leaned her back against the chair, laying her head on his leg. "Well, might as well get on with the questions. I know there are many."

John once more saw the way Sherlock and Amber seemed to move together, two planets revolving around one another. It was stunning to witness and surprising to realize that this man, the one who had once told him that he was married to his job, was now in a committed relationship. It brought a smile to his face, knowing that after months of him being utterly alone in his attempts to keep his friends safe that he was no longer alone. Sherlock had John, yes, but he could not offer the same comfort that a significant other could. He could not offer the kind of love that Sherlock rightfully deserved after having sacrificed so much for so many people. Sherlock would always be his best friend, and vice versa he believed, but Amber was something so much more, even if Sherlock wasn't admitting it just yet.

"Come on, ask away detective. I don't have all day!" Amber laughed out, easing some of the tension in the room. "I've no secrets at this point or would you rather me just explain how I knew Donaghy?" she offered with wide eyes behind her glasses.

Sherlock noted her smile, while bright, was tense. Her eyes, though holding a glittering gleefulness, were anything but gleeful. She was picking at her nails, subtly, in her lap and her teeth were beginning to gnaw at her lip. She was on edge, no where near breaking, but she was as ready for this to be over as everyone in the room was, if not more so.

"Just speak," Sherlock finally mumbled, resisting the urge to run his hand through the wildness of her curls. Where once it had been short, it was now long and he enjoyed the flame brightness of it as it cascaded around her shoulders and pale face.

She sighed but started anyways, "Neil Donaghy was a friend of my ex-husband. They served together before being discharged, Scot for an injury and Neil for doing some unsavory things. I don't know what he did and I never bothered to ask. Neil was the same age as Scot, pretty bloke with what I assumed was a lovely personality. He was sweet, kind, and caring, and somewhat odd at moments. He had a habit of becoming obsessed but according to Scot, who had known him all his life, it was a normal thing for him. I never noticed him taking an interest in me, I was more centered around Scot at the time, me being so young after all. After the," she choked up. It still hurt to remember the child she had lost so long ago. "After we lost our son," Lestrade looked on shocked, having learned a new fact about the girl. "Neil became a little more prominent in our lives. He was always there for Scot, and thinking back he was there for me more. I wouldn't say he was obsessed in the way we're speaking now but I think, looking back, it was getting to that point. After Scot and I divorced, I only saw him once. But it was than that the cryptic packages started showing up. Just pictures and such." She thought for a moment. "I still wonder how he got a hold of my father's watch. It was buried with Scot."

"Why did you have your father's watch?" Lestrade asked.

She smiled sadly, feeling a hand on her shoulder and fingers toying with a stray strand of her hair. "When my da died, Sean, my brother, took the watch. When he died, well my sisters refused the watch so I took it. When I married Scot, I gifted it to him on the night of our wedding. He was buried in it as far as I knew, which was why it came as such a surprise seeing it in that box back in October." Her brows drew down. "Neil was at Scot's funeral three years ago. It was open casket. He could have stolen the watch, but why keep it for such a long time and why now? Why was he coming after me? He was sweet but he wasn't the smartest bloke. He almost put Anderson to shame to be truthful." She hated speaking ill of the dead but he had tormented her for years, seven long ones since her divorce and now this. She shuddered.

"Is it possible that he could have been working with someone who knew your parents or possibly someone who knew Scot?" The DI asked, having taken notes through the whole process even though he had a little recording device sitting on the table in front of him.

Amber shook her head, feeling the curl Sherlock had been playing with snag on his finger. Apparently he was still playing with it. She wanted to laugh but knew the moment wasn't proper. "My parents were long buried by the time I met Scot, ten years buried actually. Scot and Neil were from South Wales, farm boys, grew up there. As far from Scotland as you could get on this tiny island. Scot knew a lot of people, being in the army after all. I met a handful, maybe six or seven, but after he got out he didn't want much association with the army. I don't think he enjoyed his time, not that it should have been enjoyable," she glanced at John in apology, catching his small smile and nod of forgiveness for her comment. "I remember him saying he hated it."

"Do you think you could remember some of the people you met, even if it was only half a dozen?"

She nodded. "My memories good."

"Better than good. You've got an eidetic memory. I've noticed over the last couple of weeks, you don't tend to forget anything, where you put something, what you were doing, and most certainly what has happened. You've woken up screaming about seeing your sister's dead body in the mortuary. For a memory to be that vivid from three years ago, and seen as a dream, that means your memory is perfect. The way you react to the mention of your dead son, that's another indicator," Sherlock rambled looking down at his green eyed girlfriend.

"An eidetic memory?" Lestrade inquired.

"It means she remembers everything in crystal clear clarity. A curse if you ask me," Megan sighed. "There are things she would do well to forget. She'll never forget what is going on now."

"But I've learned to compartmentalize, store things in my mind," Amber added to calm the worried looking DI.

John smiled, "Kind of like Sherlock's mind palace."

"You call it your mind a palace?" Amber tilted her head back to look at Sherlock. "A bit pretentious."

"What do you call your mind?"

"My nightmare," she meant it as a joke but no one seemed to take it as such. She rubbed a hand over her jaw. "It's a joke you lot. I don't really call my mind, and where I store information, anything in particular. It's kind of like a street with these little shoppes lined up and down it. Some are open wide for me to go in, others I have to open doors or knock, others are locked tight and need a key, a few even are locked with the key lost." She shrugged. "Call my 'mind palace' Petticoat Lane," she laughed which had them all giving off either a chuckle or a small laugh right along with her.

The laughing and joking didn't last long as Lestrade slid a paper and pen over to Amber. With a tight smile, she wrote down seven names, two of them being female. She knew that neither of the woman would have been able to do any of this. One was in a wheelchair, the other was currently in the United States. She kept in contact with both of them, having been married to Scot and them being the only female friends the man had had. They had been sweet and helped her though the ups and down of living with someone with military background. Neither of them had served, both of them married to someone who had.

"Mary Ellison, she's an invalid, in a wheelchair since a car accident two years ago. Leena Morrison, sweet thing, living in the United States. Her husband works for Interpol in the New York office at the moment. Mary's husband, died last year and he did serve with Scot, as had Mike, Leena's husband. Neither of the men were close to Scot, not like Neil had been. There's, Grey Ridgeway, Matthew Eddison, and Lyell Colton. Those are the only seven I've had the pleasure of meeting."

"Who do you still converse with?"

"Leena, Mary, and Mike. I haven't heard from Grey, Matt, or Lyell in the last five years I believe," she said blinking. "Why? Do you believe that one of them might be connected to this?"

Lestrade nodded watching her face darken, not wanting to believe that any of them could have done this. She was still in shock over Donaghy, he could see that. "It is quite possible that one of them, someone you knew from your marriage to Scot."

Her head tilted to the side. "So this has nothing to do with my parents or brother? It could concern my ex? Then what am I? Some conquest, someone this person needs out of the way? What possible motivation could this person have? Scot has been dead for three years," her voice raised at the end of her statement. She couldn't help it, she was offended. If this dealt with her ex-husband and someone was out to get to her, taking her sisters and killing one of them before killing other innocent people for something her ex had done, she was done. Her faith in the world, well it would shatter yet again and she wouldn't be sure if she could build it back up.

Lestrade shook his head. "That's not what I'm saying. We've got some leads now, with Donaghy being the stalker and his connection to you through your husband..."

"Ex-husband," Sherlock emphasized with a glare at the older man sitting in his flat on his couch.

"Right," Lestrade conceded. "With the connection to your ex-husband, this could lead to finding the person behind this whole thing. Now that Neil is dead, I'm sure this person will try to find another way to get at you. I want to put a protective detail on you, not just the police but more along the lines of government protection. Mycroft has already offered to help in anyway possible."

Amber growled now. "No, police protection is quite enough for now. If there is any escalation in attacks on me than I shall consider a protective detail. As it is, I won't be here next weekend. I have a wedding to attend in Birmingham. I'll be taking a train up there. I will not have someone following behind me and worrying my whole family."

"Sherlock is attending with you right?"

"No," Amber dared anyone of them to contradict her. "This is my cousin's wedding. He has requested only close friends and family. That means no dates unless the plus one is a spouse. Sherlock will accompany me to Paddington and my cousin is going to meet us there. He'll ride with me to Birmingham and another one of my cousins will ride with me back. I don't think anyone would be stupid enough to try something on a train, Lestrade." She once more silently dared him to say something.

"I'd like your cousins' contact information."

She sighed in relief. "I can get you that information tomorrow. I need to ask both of them if it would be alright to give it out. We're a quiet family if you've noticed. With ties to politics, which I stay out of,"

"Besides charity galas," Megan taunted.

Amber picked up a throw pillow, seeing it was the Union Jack one she and Sherlock favored, and tossed it at her friend. It hit her in the face, effectively silencing her. "We just like to be out of the limelight as much as possible. Which is why I'm not comfortable with the way this case is going. The whole of the media in London has pictures of me and I'm sure, before long, they will make the connection between Amber Devons and the Devons' family of Edinburgh and Birmingham."

"Devons, Birmingham Devons'. You're uncle is a Lord Justice!" John shouted rather loudly.

She clapped her hands with a roll of the eyes. "Only took six months."

"Wasn't hard to figure out. After John looked up those news articles I did a little research of my own," Sherlock mused from above her.

"So you've known about my family's political standing this whole time and you haven't uttered a word? That's rather hard to believe."

Sherlock leaned over in his chair so that he was looking down at her face which was now turned up to him again. He grinned down at her. "It was rather hard."

Amber grinned up at him, "'Course it was. You love flaunting your talents but you couldn't find a way to make it seem like you had deduced that about me. No, you found it out through the papers, just like everyone else. That must have pissed you off," to anyone who didn't know Amber and Sherlock this would have looked like the start of a fight, but for those who did know them this was simply a way of flirting. There was no malice or ill intent. There were only simple facts and teasing, tossed from one to the other.

Sherlock watched her eyes glitter, relaxed, calm, crystal clear lakes of green which reflected the happiness she felt when teasing him in all good fun. He would never admit it to anyone, but he enjoyed this, the teasing, the taunting, the glances, and even the touches. There might have been people in the room but for that moment, that single moment they were alone, together, just being themselves. He would have swept her into his arms, if one of them hadn't been held immobile by a sling and if there hadn't of been four other people staring at them.

It was John who brought them out of the moment. "Hamish," he muttered. Sherlock's head snapped up, remembering the last time he had said that name.

"What?" Amber questioned, her expression clearly reading her confusion.

"If you were wondering what to name your child. Hamish would be nice," John smiled.

Amber's brows knitted together as Sherlock smirked softly behind her. Megan and Lestrade had kept quiet, though they were both wondering what the hell was being talked about. "Hamish is your middle name. Why would we name a...oh," she grinned now. "Lovely, John. We'll keep that in mind if we ever do have a child," she teased back actually watching his face go blank before his shook his head in exasperation. Sherlock would have blown him off with some offensive statement but Amber, she had to be the one to tease him right back, seeing no need to be offended by the statement or suggestion.

"This has been interesting," Lestrade cleared his throat getting all of their attention. "Amber, you have to be to work in an hour. John, Sherlock, you two still need to be questioned about the incidents of yesterday. I gave you all a reprieve for the night but I can't drag it out any longer."

"Well aware of that," John mumbled as Sherlock grunted.

Lestrade merely told them that they needed to be in when Amber went to work before making Megan and Amber promise that they would be there. He left leaving the flat to the two couples.

"Go, have a shower Sherlock. I'll make us something fast for breakfast."

"How about you both go have a shower," Megan suggested before her eyes got wide. "No, no. I meant separate showers," she mumbled. "I probably should just shut up now." She blushed as she sat there looking anywhere but at her friends.

John chuckled at his girlfriend. "She's right. You each need a shower. Meg take Amber downstairs so she can shower. Sherlock will take one up here. I'll fix breakfast, if I can find anything edible in the fridge."

"Went shopping yesterday dears. I figured with all of you running about and Sherlock being shot that you probably forgot to do it yourselves. All of you just rest, I'll make the food. Just this once. I'm not your housekeeper," Mrs. Hudson said with cheer as she entered into Sherlock and John's flat.

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson," Amber said as she pulled herself off the floor. She leaned down now to kiss Sherlock lightly before heading for the door, Megan following behind her after giving John a peck. The girls disappeared downstairs as Sherlock went down the hall to his bathroom.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Reviews are very much welcome!**

**A/N: I hope you all are reading this because there is some useful information coming up. First, did you guys enjoy the chapter? I hope you did. This chapter was more of an explanation chapter, and the next is a transition to the two/three chapters that are going to be rather...rough. I'm not saying anything about them, my lips are sealed. So let me know what you think of the chapter! Also, I'm a little worried about OOC ness. Please let me know if you see any, that way I can fix it. Thanks!**

**Second, I have a poll on my profile page. People have been half and half on couple name and series name. So I have a poll up for you all to chose and let your opinions be fully heard. Please vote, all information is in the question!**

**Third, there are five chapters left! Can you believe it?! Five chapters and this story is over! But do not be sad, there will be a sequel so if you guys don't have me on your alert list than I recommend you do that just to be sure that you don't miss the first few chapters of the next story! **

**And finally, I have decided that if I can get over the 200 review mark by the next chapter that I will post a preview, a minor little snippet, from the next story as well as the story title. You guys have been so awesome and I thank you all for your reviews, praise, comments, suggestions, and constructive criticism. You have no idea how happy I get when I see a review or a follow or a favorite in my email when I get up in the morning. It keeps me writing because I know you all like this story enough to give it the time of day. **

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**That is all my lovelies. Until next time my dears! **


	37. Chapter 35

_Hello there everyone, welcome to the Wednesday chapter of Breaking the Barrier! I want to welcome everyone both new and old to this story. I want to thank you for the reviews, favorites, and follows. You lot are awesome! Look out for the preview of the next story in the author's not at the bottom! As always, on with the show and enjoy!_

_**Empress of Verace:** Jawbreaking? Well that's something new, lol. I've never heard a chapter be called that before, so thank you! I'm not saying what but Sherlock will find something out about Amber's ex. And since I'm in college I go semester by semester. Fall I start in August and end in early December, for Spring I start in January and end in early May. I have like a three month summer lol. Enjoy the chapter!_

_**CassiTTMMMSSPPJ:** Thank you and enjoy!_

_**bored411:** Yes there were/are some crazy connections aren't there. I hope I keep you surprised. Hope you enjoy the chapter!_

_**The Yoshinator:** Don't worry about not having a social site. I just put my URL there encase anyone has one and wants to follow me. There is nothing wrong with not having/wanting a social site. Enjoy the chapter :)_

_**MissCaityGrace:** Oh I would love to see Sherlock's reaction to having a child, but well, not sure if that will happen or not in the series. You'll have to wait and see! Enjoy the chapter!_

_**Loki'sdreamer:** Thanks for the follow on tumblr. I know this is going to sound silly but I've had quite a few people following me and could you please tell me your URL so I can follow you back :) Thanks for the review and I'm glad you like explanation chapters. There will be plenty of those in the next story since we don't know too much of Amber's family/background. And now we only have 4 chapters left. Enjoy this one!_

_**CarminaxBuranax:** I'm glad you liked the chapter and the little details I put in. Oh and trust me I know what that purple shirt is called on tumblr ;) I'm glad everyone seemed to be in character, I know I've said it before but I really worry about that. So please, in the coming chapters let me know if things slip into OOCishness. And thank you for taking a look at the poll! Enjoy the chapter as always!_

_**Gwilwillith:** Thank you for the review and vote! Enjoy the chapter!_

_**animelover56248(review on chapter 20):** I am so happy to see that you think the story is too damn cute, I'm assuming by now that you've gotten to the point where things are not so cute. But I hope you have enjoyed it thus far. I'm so glad that you think Amber is perfect for Sherlock. I wanted to create a character who could kind of counter Sherlock's apathy. Enjoy this chapter!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or anything you recognize from the show. I do, however, own Amber, Megan, and the terrible things that have happened...basically the plot!_

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**[035]**

Sherlock sat cross-legged on Amber's bed, her suitcase sprawled before him as she rushed around the room, a hurricane of activity as she attempted to pack last minute. At the moment she was a blur of copper, purple, and black as she swirled around, tossing clothing haphazardly onto the bed in the direction of the suitcase. Anything she thought she would need for the three night stay with her aunt an uncle were tossed one the bed. Occasionally something hit Sherlock, but it appeared as if she didn't pay it much mind.

That was until one of her Converse trainers smacked him in the head causing him to grunt. "Oh God," she uttered as she rushed to the side of the bed reaching to grab his face and kiss his forehead. "I didn't mean to hit you. I'm so sorry," she rushed out.

Sherlock grabbed both her hands, pulling them away from his face. "I am alright. Just continue on with packing."

She gave him a smile and kissed him soundly on the lips before going back to packing, this time she was a little more wary of what she threw in the direction of the bed. As long as it was soft it got thrown. If it was hard or could cause harm it was softly tossed so that it laid next to the bed on the floor. Fifteen minutes later she was done tossing things around.

Now she sat on the bed beside Sherlock, all her things splayed before her, even the things from the floor, as she attempted to find a way to fit everything in her carry-on case. She knew that only a handful of it would fit, but she was damned if she wouldn't try first.

The whole time Sherlock sat silent, watching her with hawk like eyes. He wasn't too fond of the idea of her leaving for the weekend, even if she would be surrounded by family the entire time. There was a killer after her, or at least that was the assumption was at the moment. He didn't want her getting hurt, or worse, but there was little he could beside having Lestrade lock her up for the weekend. She wouldn't take to kindly to that. So, she was going to go with or without his blessing. He just wished he could go with her.

"You are aware that you aren't going to be able to fit all of that in your suitcase," Sherlock mentioned lightly, watching her roll her eyes before she swatted him with a sock.

"Of course I'm aware. It doesn't stop me from trying. I managed to get twelve days worth of clothing in a carry-on suitcase once when Meg and I went to Paris. It was heavy but we managed." She laughed a little as she rolled up a pair of jeans and stuffed them in the already overstuffed bag. She was running out of room and she was running out of it fast. "Plus I have my overnight bag. I can pack whatever else I need in there, simple as that," she said with a flourish as she slapped the lid down, struggling to zip it up.

When the job was finished she removed the case from her bed and sat herself down, cross-legged, in front of her non-to-pleased boyfriend. Though his face read nothing of the emotions swirling around in his head, she knew what he was thinking. She'd mentioned before that he was easy to read, at least to her, and this was one of those moments where she could see what he was feeling. "You don't want me to go," she started as she picked at the edge of one of her pant legs.

Sherlock stared at her for a moment, "Of course I don't want you to go. It's stupid."

She raised a brow. "Going to a family wedding is stupid now?"

"You're putting your life in danger...for what? Family?" Sherlock scoffed.

On the defensive, Amber crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh you're one to talk mister-I-pretended-to-commit-suicide-to-keep-my-fr iends-safe! Why are you so special?"

"More that just my life was at stake," he argued, staring her straight in the eyes.

She huffed. "So what you are saying is that because my life is the only one currently in danger, I shouldn't have a life? Or maybe you think I should hole myself up in the flat until you solve this?"

"Yes," he answered simply. However, noting the darkening of her eyes and the way her cheeks flushed red, he realized his mistake.

"Sherlock," she breathed out dangerously before taking a deep breath, attempting to calm the rage of her currently uneven temper. Thankfully it actually worked this time so when she spoke it came out calm and rather cold, "You don't want me to go because you want me safe, I understand that. I'm happy, that in this weird and somewhat rude way, you are telling me you care. But I can't stay here forever. I have to be able to live my life and I don't want to do that in fear that every second I've got a bullseye on my back. I've said it already, I just can't hide in fear." She attempted to smile at him but she was still angry, and a little upset, as well as touched.

She climbed off the bed before he could say another word and went to her closet. She grabbed a pair of jeans, a blouse, a jumper, and her older pair of Converse. She headed to the bathroom, glancing at Sherlock to see him still sitting there stunned. She smirked silently as she closed the door and quickly showered and changed. She had to be to the train station in an hour to meet her cousin's incoming train. She'd be leaving an hour or so after that.

Coming back once more into the room, she saw Sherlock sitting on her bed in the same position he had been before they had their quick argument. He had his hands steepled in front of his mouth and this time he avoided looking at her. Finally she sighed, plopped herself on the bed beside him once again, and leaned her head on his shoulder. "It's only for the weekend. I'd love for you to come. You know, have you meet the family and piss them all off. It would be enjoyable but my aunt wants this to be private and that means family and really close friends only. Meg isn't even allowed," she exclaimed hoping that maybe that fact would lighten his mood.

It didn't. "You'll get to meet my cousin Thomas. He's a nice bloke, works for the police up in Birmingham. He's a constable hoping to be a detective one day like Lestrade. I can't say he's the brightest man I've ever met, that title belongs to you," she got him to smirk. "He'll keep me safe. My aunt and uncle have security guards on the property for protection purposes and they won't allow me out of their sight, only to go to the loo. I promise Sherlock."

Sherlock nodded as he felt her arms lace around his waist. She snuggled into his side, sighed, and wished that things could be just a bit different. As much as she was excited to visit her family, she would have been more excited to spend the weekend at home with Sherlock, John, and Megan. "I'll be back before you know it. Speaking of which," she glanced at the clock on her beside table. "We need to go if I'm going to meet Tom on time."

She attempted to pop off the bed only to be pulled back by Sherlock. She landed against him and managed to squeak out, "Wha—" before his lips descended on hers.

He poured every emotion, every mixed feeling, every worry, and every fear into that one kiss. His lips moving skillfully against hers as he tried to tell her how he felt without actually saying it. He wasn't ready to say it, wasn't sure if it was the right moment, the right time, if it was the right thing to do. Being with him, running London with him, it was dangerous. He didn't want her getting hurt somewhere down the line because he was reckless and stupid and didn't think of others before he jumped head first into a case. He didn't think he could stand it if he was the one walking into her hospital room, seeing her bloody and broken. He couldn't imagine what he would feel, he didn't want to imagine what he would feel. But he couldn't deny what he felt any more, seeing her nearly crying over him because he had been shot had made him feel so...human and so loved. He loved her.

Groaning, he felt her hands tug at the hair on the back of his head, pulling him away from her mouth. She panted, "Sherlock, as much as I'd love for this little moment to continue—" He once more cut her off by placing his lips against hers, this time more softly.

After another moment, Amber broke away again. "Right, um," her mind was blank and this caused Sherlock to grin smugly. "Um," she blinked rapidly. "Oh hell," she muttered before kissing him again. In a matter of seconds the kiss was over and she finally managed to speak a coherent thought. "I really need to get to the station." She leaned her forehead against his.

"I know," he muttered, still with a grin. "Right then. Shall we go?" He asked as the disentangled themselves from one another so that they could get off the bed.

"Yeah, give me a moment to toss the rest of the stuff in my bag. Could you get me my laptop charger from the living room?" she asked sweetly of him. He nodded and disappeared down the hall.

This gave Amber a moment to think as she went about gathering her things on autopilot. She and Sherlock kissed quite a lot, sometimes it was more like snogging, and she had felt all sorts of things when engaging in those activities. Yet these kisses, they had felt so...different. So much more passionate, so much stronger, and so much more...profound.

"I believe your rabbit might have gnawed on it," Sherlock announced, producing a now nibbled on and dead, charger cord. "Judging by the bite marks, I'd say she had a hell of an enjoyable time."

She laughed, a full body laugh that bubbled up inside her until she was nearly crying. When she quieted down she motioned to her closet. "There's a spare or two in a box in there. She's had that problem for a while now. Should have known to keep her locked up while we weren't out there," she rambled as she stood up. "I'll go grab it." She smiled and disappeared into the closet coming out with a new cord, still in the box. "And there we have it," she said as she tucked the box in her bag and flung it over her shoulder.

She grabbed her suitcase, which thankfully was on wheels, and looked to Sherlock, "Ready to go?"

"You need your coat," he rose a brow as she frowned, as if remembering she wasn't wearing her coat.

Just smiling at him as she walked out of the room, grabbed her coat off the chair on which it lay, pulled it on before helping Sherlock into his, and out the door they went.

000000000000000

The ride to the train station was uneventful, quiet, and contemplative. They had sat in silence in the back of the cab, Amber fiddling with her nails and Sherlock going between staring at Amber and staring out the window at the city passing them by. They hadn't spoken besides telling the cabbie where they needed to go and how much time they had to get there. The silence was comfortable, sweet almost, them not having to talk to understand how the other was feeling. Amber was just as nervous about going out of town as Sherlock was about her leaving, even if it was only for a weekend.

She kept the nervousness hidden well, at least she assumed she had, from everyone but Sherlock. He noticed everything, every little habit, flinch, and nervous twitch she gave. She couldn't hide from him.

Popping out of the taxi, Sherlock was the one who paid even as she pulled a couple of notes from her pocket. She muttered something about being able to pay for herself, but thanked him anyway as he grabbed her suitcase out of the boot of the car even as the cabbie protested saying it was his job. Amber just shook her head and pulled out her mobile, texting her cousin to let him know she had arrived.

The response came instantaneously, saying that he was just departing from the platform now. They promised one another that they would meet inside, somewhere close to the entrance for the sake of actually managing to find one other.

She reached for her bag only to have Sherlock send her a glare. She rolled her eyes at his antics but allowed him to roll her bag behind him as he walked with her into the building. "I am a grown woman," she muttered to him as they merged with the fray of humanity rushing around like a blur in the station.

"I am aware," Sherlock retorted causing her to snort. "What does that have to do with anything?"

With a raised brow she chuckled, "As much as I enjoy you taking my bag and paying for the cab, I can do things for myself."

"I am aware of this as well. I just assumed it was the proper thing to do."

That made her smile. He was trying to be normal for her, as normal as Sherlock Holmes could get, and it was absolutely adorable. She would have loved to link her arm with his in that moment but considering his only free arm was currently in a sling, she couldn't do so. It mad her sad that all she could do was send him a thankful smile.

"So what will you and John do while I'm away?" Sherlock looked at her as if the answer was obvious and didn't need to be said out loud. She shook her head lightly and asked, "Don't you think that it's time for a rest? You've been on this case alone for nearing six months and there have been weeks when there hasn't been anything to do."

"I'll rest when the case is over." He knew what she was saying, six months on a single case with nothing going on in between. It was hell on his mind but he had Amber to keep him sharp, or at least sane enough that he wasn't smoking or shooting walls. He entertained himself with experiments instead.

She sighed now. "Sherlock, this isn't healthy. I can't begin to understand how that mind of yours works but I know enough about the human body and how it functions to know that you're going to run yourself into the ground. You need a rest. Take the weekend. When I get back you'll have a better perspective about the case and you'll be refreshed."

"That's not what I do," he scoffed, as if that one statement justified everything.

"Sherlock," she chided lightly. "Please, I don't ask much of you. Do this for me? You were shot, you've got a gash on your forehead. I don't want to have to worry that I'm going to come back and find you in the hospital again. I don't think my heart could take that."

If Sherlock had been five he would have kicked the ground like a child being told he couldn't go play with his friends. As it was he kind of gave off a sigh of reluctance. "Because you asked," he stated simply to which she smiled brightly.

"Thank you," she beamed as she hugged him from the side, careful not to bump his injured arm. Though he would never admit it out loud, the wound was killing him. He refused the pain medication on the grounds of principle, that and they hindered his thinking process. She would never admit that she knew the true reason behind his refusal of the medicine. She had managed to talk to Lestrade at one point during the week and the conversation had turned to Sherlock and the medication he was supposed to be taking. She had told the DI that he wasn't taking the meds and she had no idea why, and that it was frustrating, seeing Sherlock shift or wince in pain. Lestrade had told her that before she had ever met the man, before John had even been in the picture, Sherlock had had a problem with drugs in general. She hadn't been as surprised as she could have been, she knew of his nicotine addiction, though they were patches now. She hadn't bothered to ask what drugs her boyfriend had once done, it wasn't her place to do so. When she had arrived home that night she had kissed him, told him she understood, and left him confused as to what she was talking about. It had been better that way. He might one day talk about it with her, but until then she could only silently support him because he was making an effort to keep himself clean.

"Amber!" they both broke their eye contact when they heard the sound of a man screaming across the crowd.

Sherlock watched as her eyes brightened, happiness he hadn't seen there in so long, lightening the green until they looked like gems. She released him to run to the relatively tall man with brownish copper hair, being swept up in a very sibling-like embrace. The man, Thomas, swung her around before setting her back on her feet.

"Look at you!" he exclaimed, holding her at arm's length. "Have you gained weight?" he joked, which earned him a slap across the chest but a smile on her face.

"I'm the same weight as I ever was, not that it's any of your business." She turned back in the direction of Sherlock, waving at him to come closer. "Come on now, he doesn't bite and I promise he's as safe as you or John."

"This the Sherlock Holmes you've been going on about for months now?" Thomas asked eying Sherlock up and down, taking stock of the man who his cousin was currently dating.

Amber nodded, giddy that someone in her family was actually meeting Sherlock instead of just hearing about him. "'Course he is! Don't you remember the papers and pictures?"

"'Course I do Am, he just looks a little different in person than he did on paper."

"It's because he's missing the hat."

"John threw it out," Sherlock said, remembering how happy he had been upon learning that John had actually gotten rid of the ridiculous deerstalker hat Lestrade had given him as a joke. That thing had been more than annoying and made no sense at all. He would be happy if he never saw one again for the rest of his life.

"Thank God," Thomas laughed, offering out a hand. "Thomas Devons. It really is a pleasure to meet you."

Sherlock shook his hand, not sure what to really say. "You are aware of the events of the last few months?"

"Of course. Ammy here keeps us all updated on the progress of the case, however she never let us know how bad it had gotten. We didn't know until last month that she had a protective detail of sorts. Mum and dad wanted to send some of our guards down but Amber refused on the grounds that it was pointless and a waste of the family money. I disagree but she had been adamant that we not get involved."

"I'm not one to flaunt the fact of where I come from. I'd rather not have the media getting a hold of my personal background because I had the men in black following me around like I was the goddamn president of the United States. You've got to respect me on that. My side of the family, as well as yours, deserves to be left alone and not run in the tabloids," she growled out. "Remember the last time we were dragged into the papers? After Kelly was found in the river, I had to bloody hide myself from the media for weeks until they got bored."

Thomas rubbed the back of his head while Sherlock looked on with fascination. It was intriguing to see how she interacted with her family. It appeared, that while they were close, they had some deep rooted issues that weren't going to work themselves out anytime soon.

"Sorry Am, mum and dad promised to keep this as under-wraps as they could while you're at the manor," her cousin said sheepishly.

She sighed. "I love you all so much but sometimes I don't like my being a Devons."

"How does no one in London know WHO you are?"

"I'm very quiet about it Tom. Devons is quite a common surname and without a splashy job such as what your mum or dad have, or what my parents had, I can quietly go around the city without people asking if I'm related to Richard Devons from Birmingham," she explained.

"Do you promise to keep an eye on her for as long as she is in Birmingham?" Sherlock interjected, taking the conversation away from how Amber managed to stay out of the limelight, back to the original topic. He wasn't usually one to have another person make a promise, but in this case he needed to know that Amber would be safe.

Thomas' face went from joyful to serious in milliseconds as he took in Sherlock, understanding now that this had gotten more serious than Amber had ever let on when talking to her family. "Yes, I assure you that she will never be out of anyone's sight. How bad has this gotten Mr. Holmes?"

"Sherlock, please," he stated. "Her life is at stake."

"Sherlock!" Amber squeaked with a glare. "I wouldn't say that it has gotten to that point as of yet. It's not as if I was the one who was shot," she countered, her eyes daring him to say something. "Thought so. As it is, I'd say it would be wise that we just keep an eye out for anything suspicious until we have this situation under control."

Thomas rubbed the back of his head. "You know, mum and dad wouldn't have been offended if you had turned down the invitation to the wedding. If you feel safer here in London you can stay. I know you'd love to be there when Marcie and I marry but it's not necessary."

"Tom, I love you, I love my family, and I love Marcie. I need a little break from the city and being with the whole family is safer than taking a trip anywhere else. I'm coming. Nothing you or anyone," she gave a pointed look to Sherlock who just stared right back at her. "Can say will make it any different. Now we've got about forty-five minutes to catch our train, or at least I assume so. We should probably get going," she said as she finally took the handle of her suitcase from Sherlock. She passed that off to her cousin, since all he had was a messenger bag slung across his body. She even passed off her overnight bag which had been weighing her down since getting out of the cab. She waved Thomas off so she could have a private moment.

When her cousin actually left, she stood in front of Sherlock, half an arm's length apart, fighting the urge to hold him and kiss him goodbye. This was the first time they had been separated for more than a couple of hours during the day. They had been at one another side, practically since meeting.

"I guess I'll see you in a few days."

"Yes," Sherlock muttered, and like in the bedroom not that long ago, he was the one who pulled her into him. It was uncharacteristic of him, he knew, but it was like a compulsion he couldn't stop. He hugged her close to him, however, feeling her slender arms tighten around his waist as she snuggled into his chest. He pressed a kiss on the top of her head. "Stay safe," he ordered firmly.

"Always, Sherlock. I plan on coming back to you in one piece," she grinned into his coat. "This feels so odd."

"What? Embracing in public? I agree."

She laughed loudly and pulled back so that she was still in the circle of his arms but looking up at him with a wide smile. "No, leaving you feels odd. Have you realized that the longest we have ever been away from each other since dating has possibly been six to eight hours? Before that, well, I'd say a little less than a day considering I live right below you." She chuckled at his amazed look. "Time will fly, or I can hope."

"Yes, you'll be back and we'll have this case figured out."

"Sherlock, please just rest. You need it. You've got bruises under your eyes," she reached up and brushed at one with her thumb. "Or at least take it easy," she muttered before leaning up to give him a quick kiss, knowing he wasn't comfortable with public displays of affection.

"Until next time?" she breathed when she pulled back.

"See you later," he smiled down at her as she finally released herself from their embrace. He felt slightly colder without her there.

"Of course," she smirked at him before running her hand down his chest, just taking one more second before she finally turned away from him and headed in the direction of her cousin.

He watched her walk away, rather slowly he noticed, towards the man standing with her bags not more than twenty feet away. The man was smiling fondly at his cousin and Sherlock couldn't help but feel that she would be safe.

Just as he turned to leave, fully intent on going back to 221B to look more into her family background as well as that of her ex-husband, he felt a hand land on his arm. He once more turned to find Amber standing there, smiling before throwing her arms around him, her lips pressing against his for a quick moment before she pulled back.

"I just wanted to tell you I love you Sherlock Holmes," she said on a breath and kissed him again before leaving him speechless as she headed back towards her cousin who was now grinning like an idiot as he watched the display.

Amber had done that for a reason, she had told him because she felt compelled to, that it needed to be said now. She couldn't put her finger on it but she needed to know that he knew she loved him. She didn't care if she hadn't let him respond, she didn't need him to right now. She knew just in the way he spoke to her, the way he touched her and looked at her. He would say it when he was ready. She just wanted him to know how she felt and she was happy with how it had gone. He hadn't pushed her away, hadn't looked disgusted, just shocked and...if she let herself believe...excited.

She finally came to a stand beside her cousin, risking a glance back to see Sherlock's retreating form. She couldn't help but smile, holding onto the feeling of elation she had had when she had uttered those three words she had never thought she would ever say to another man for a good long while.

"I'm happy for you," Thomas muttered as he flung his free arm around Amber's shoulders.

"Why?" she asked with a brow raised as she tensed.

"You've got a man that you clearly love, who obviously loves you back and cares for you deeply. I never would have figured Sherlock Holmes for being the loving type."

Now she was confused. "Why do you say that?"

"Well," he started. "That blogger of his, Dr. John Watson, has made it seem as if he doesn't care for much besides solving cases."

Amber laughed. "Of course he cares for more than cases, he just likes to make it seem as if he doesn't. He cares for John, our landlady Mrs. Hudson, me of course, and I think, on some level, his brother. Then there's Lestrade and Molly, he cares for them too in a way. He just doesn't openly admit it as you or I would. He's a lovely man Tom and he's a good one."

"As good as Scot?" he taunted.

He swore her eyes went starry as she smiled and whispered, "So much better." She blinked. "He might prioritize his cases but he puts me up there with them. He hasn't let me down Tom, he's been there when I've cried and when I've raged against it all. He's picked me up when I was so far down I wanted to just lay down and never get up. He's proud of me, though he hasn't said it I can see it in his eyes."

"Love, isn't it amazing?" he gave a soft chuckle as they headed towards where they needed to be.

"It's so different with Sherlock. With Scot it had been all butterflies and shyness but with Sherlock it's adventure and scares and risks. With Scot it took so long to finally fall for him but with Sherlock it just happened. It was like one moment I was standing there and I just felt it, the love I had for him. It hit me like a lorry, Tom. When I fell for Scot it was so subtle I barely noticed it. It was like it wasn't even there, just a whisper but Sherlock, my god he was like a light in the dark."

"I felt the same when I met Marcie," Thomas admitted. "It was my darkest days when I met her and like a flash of fire she was there pulling me from the dark and back into the light."

Amber leaned her head onto his arm, remembering how much Thomas had struggled a couple of years back before meeting the blonde he was about to marry. He had been in a dark place, depressed beyond belief, and so terribly close to ending it all. She was happy that he had found Marcie, happy that the cousin she had been closest to hadn't left her like everyone else had. "You and Marcie are soul mates. The way you two look at one another, it's just stunning."

"You and Sherlock," he nudged her. "You've got the same looks in your eyes. Starstruck and in love. Your mum and dad would be so happy to see it."

She smiled sadly, feeling that heavy ache in her chest as she realized there had been, and would be, so many things her parents missed. Her father hadn't walked her down the aisle and he wouldn't do it the next time, if there was one. Neither her mother or father would ever get to meet their grandchildren, again if there ever were any as she hoped there would be. They wouldn't get to see her so in love that just the thought of his name brought a smile to her lips. It was sad, but she knew they watched her. She might not believe in an organized religion, she believed that those you loved watched over you as you lived out the rest of your life without them. It was her family who had kept her going when the dark moments hit. It was them and Sherlock, John, Megan, and everyone else who kept her going now. They were the reason she faced the day with strength though her hands shook and her mind raced.

"Oh they are," she said with a soft smile as they slipped into the crowd, not even realizing that a man in a trench coat and hat followed at a relatively average distance behind him, his dark eyes glued to the lovely redhead walking as if nothing could harm her in that moment.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Reviews are very much welcome?**

**A/N: So can you believe that there are only four chapters left? In only two weeks this story will be over and the new one will begin. I can not believe that it has been a year since I started this story. I feels like it was just yesterday but it always feels as if it has been forever. I have a request to all my readers. If you have a particular idea for a case you would like to see Amber and Sherlock and John investigate please leave it in a review or a PM, or hell message me on my tumblr (URL at the bottom of the author's note). I love suggestions! **

**On a different note, I do have a poll up on my profile page. Please go and have a look at it. You're input is much welcomed considering I like hearing what you guys like as well as I'm horrible at making up my mind lol! So please go have a look, thank you!**

**And like I said in the author's note of the last chapter, since I have made it over the 200 review milestone on this story I will reveal the name of the next story in the series as well as give you a little (200 words) preview from somewhere in the next story. It's more of a fluffy teaser that gives away nothing of the plot at all. I**

**The name of the sequel is called...*drum roll please*... Cross Roads!**

**The preview is as follows:**

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As the music played, Amber and Sherlock swayed to the soft melody. This was the first time they had ever danced together, publicly or otherwise. Neither of them were much for dancing, Amber fearing that she was going to trip and Sherlock more because he didn't like dancing in general. It was a distraction when in a room full of people, something he could not afford.

"Can you believe it?" Amber asked softly as she laid her head on his chest, not caring that there were others around.

"Believe what?" he questioned as his arms wrapped around her waist nearly instinctively.

Amber gave a soft laugh before looking up at Sherlock who was looking down at her now. She couldn't help but smile as she said, "That its been a year Sherlock. A year since we met."

"Nearly thirteen months actually. We met in October and it's now November of the following year," he smirked down at her. As if he could ever forget the day the day he saw the little redhead standing in the door frame of his kitchen, her hands shaking with wide eyes and a cup of tea in her hands.

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**There you have it, a small preview. Let me know what you think of it! **

**And with that I leave you with my URL for tumblr: lostinthetardisifoundmywayhome . tumblr . com. Remove the spaces and there you go. If you could please send me a message letting me know you're from FF and I'll follow you back. Hell I pretty much follow everyone back!**

**Until Sunday my lovelies!**


	38. Chapter 36

_It would appear it is Sunday once more my lovelies! So here it is, a brand new chapter! Again I request your help in spotting OOCness though I will point out there is a moment in here that is intended to come off as OOC for a reason. So if you do point it out I want you all to know that it was meant to be there. If that even makes sense. Anyways, enjoy the chapter! There are only three more to go!_

_**animelover56348:** I am glad this story has basically rendered you speechless! And yes there is going to a sequel as well as several stories that follow that. So yeah, basically this is becoming a series. Enjoy it lol, and enjoy this chapter!_

_**Loki'sNibblingTransylvanian:** Thank you so much! You have no idea how happy I am to hear that you think this is well written and that the characters were done right! So again thank you! Oh, please do go ahead and write you Sherlock fanfic. I'm sure it will be amazing! Enjoy the chapter!_

_**Empress of Verace:** Well I wouldn't technically call my school a proper uni. It's more of a community college XD But yes I have about 3 months of summer, a little over actually. And if my calculations are correct you've got a week left until you yourself are on vacation, hold in there! And yes, a year has passed, hard to believe really. Enjoy the chapter!_

_**The Yoshinator:** LOL, that is all I can say. Oh God yes, I LOVE Doctor Who. I mean seriously, besides Sherlock DW is my addiction! What gave it away? Hope you enjoy the chapter!_

_**CarminaxBuranax:** Thank you! I'm happy to see Sherlock is still in character, I fear that this chapter might not be as successful. I'd respond to more of your review but then I'd be giving things away, so I shall remain silent and let you read on. Oh, good luck on your exams! Enjoy the chapter as always!_

_**Gwilwillith:** Thank you so much. Enjoy the chapter!_

_**bored411:** Well someone has been following her for a while...but now we get to see a small bit of active following lol. Hope you enjoy this chapter!_

_**Loki'sdreamer:** Glad to see you enjoyed the preview. And yes she has some family issues, we'll delve into that in the sequel and following stories. Enjoy the chapter!_

_**Harkinggail:** Lol, I'm glad to hear that. Enjoy the chapter!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, the BBC does. I do own the plot of this story, the terrible things I do to my characters. Oh, speaking of characters, I own Amber, Megan and anyone you don't recognize. _

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**[036]**

Brianna groaned softly as she heard the sound of her cell door being slammed shut as the man left. That bastard, Satan as she still referred to him, had just repeated his heinous nightly process of defiling her and leaving her to weep in a corner like a beaten dog. Like usual, she curled her nude form into a tight ball in the corner, as far as her manacles would allow.

However, unlike the first few months, or the first year of her captivity as she had figured out, she did not cry. She curled herself into a ball, yes, and made the sounds of someone weeping, but it was purely to distract the bastard holding her hostage. She had learned, quite early on, that he hated the sound of her crying. She wasn't sure if it was shame because he had hurt a woman or if it was because her weeping was a constant reminder that she was there and he had to stick around to make sure she was alive for his plans to work. Either way, she didn't care. If it kept him from watching her, she was happy to play up the ruse until she could no longer hear his footsteps beyond the door.

Tonight was different though. Satan stood outside her cell, looking in on her as she faked her crying. "Today's the day I finally sink my claws into that tramp of a sister of yours. She's going out of town, have you heard? You're cousin is getting married and she's been invited. Poor little Sherlock Holmes isn't allowed to escort his lady love to Birmingham, the cousin is. She's open for the taking. Soon I won't need you!"

Brianna gasped, the tears trailing down her cheeks were real now. "Leave her alone!" she raged, throwing herself violently towards the man just outside the door. Her protective nature taking over in the seconds upon hearing him talking about Amber. She didn't care what became of her, she just didn't want the same fate to befall the little redhead who had so much to live for still.

The chains rattled as she thrashed, naked to the man's eye, as cruses, both in Scottish Gaelic and English, flowed from her pale lips. She didn't care about her state of dress nor the lack of strength in her body, all she cared about was getting to the bastard and tearing him to pieces with her bare hands.

"Oh, if she's anything like you, I'm in for one hell of a trip, aren't I?" he teased at her through the bars of the tiny window in the door.

"Come in here and say that to me!" she demanded, lips drawn back in a feral snarl. "You can't you sniveling coward. You lock me up, use me, abuse me, and then target an innocent woman who has NEVER HARMED ANYONE IN HER LIFE!" The last bit of that sentence came out so harsh and loud that it had the man stepping back. He hadn't realized that she still had that much fight in her. It would seem all that needed to be mentioned was Amber and the girl would fight with all her might, even when her legs could barely hold her steady. She was already shaking from the exertion, he could see it. That made him smirk wickedly.

"Oh, so deluded. How can you not have noticed? You're sister, that little redheaded tart, has harmed many in her short life. I plan on making sure she doesn't ruin any more."

With that she heard the little metal cover slam shut over the window of the door. Brianna, still rearing to fight, struggled against the hold of the iron shackles on her wrists and ankles. She hadn't fought this hard since she had first arrived. She had torn her wrists and ankles to shreds in the process and now she was doing it again, pulling open scars that would forever scar her once soft skin. She struggled and screamed and tried to pull the shackles until she collapsed onto the ground, in pain and so very tired now.

This time she did curl herself into a ball. She did cry. Amber was only twenty eight, by her calculations considering the last three years had been spent holed up in this hell hole. Amber was so young, so sweet. What could she have possible done to anger someone so much that he would kill and maim and violate just to get revenge on someone who didn't know what they had done? Amber was, as far as Bri knew, an innocent in all of this. She wasn't a violent person, she usually shied away from violence unless it was in playfulness. If she got mad she would usually snap with words instead of reach out with a hand.

Of course that had been three years ago, and even then it had been almost a year since she had seen Amber before she had been taken. They lived in separate parts of the country, to far to visit as often as they would have liked. Yet she knew her sister wouldn't change that much, not so drastically that she was willing to harm another human being for any reason other than self-protection. Amber just wasn't the sort.

Now Amber faced a future that she had suffered through for far too long. She knew that her sister would not last as long as she had, not because she was weak, but because the man would not allow it. He would torture her for a couple of days before bringing her life to an end. Amber would not face months and years of physical and mental abuse, and while that shouldn't comfort her, knowing her sister was going to die, it did in a small way. She prayed that her sister didn't suffer if that man got his hands on her, she prayed that Amber went fast if no one could save her. She knew it was over for herself, she had known that for a long while now.

With those thoughts in her mind, Brianna wept herself to sleep in the corner of her little cell, cold and forgotten, just wishing that things had been different. Just wishing that this was all a terrible nightmare that she would wake up from in the morning.

That wasn't meant to be, not before the nightmare became much worse.

000000000000000

It had been hours since Sherlock had heard from Amber. The last thing he had received from her had been a text telling him they would be boarding the train in about fifteen minutes. He knew that mobile reception could be horrid when on a train but there was a limit to how bad it could really be. He knew her phone was working, he knew it was charged, and he knew she kept it on her at all times. Even when she was sleeping it was close by, as in on her nightstand or under her pillow if it wasn't on the charger.

Now he sat in his chair, slumped down, his phone on the arm of the chair, his hands steepled in front of his mouth as he attempted to will the phone to ring or buzz. He just wanted it to do something, anything at all to let him know that Amber was safe on the train heading for Birmingham. He had texted her, twice, which was saying something because over the last few weeks all he had to do was text her once and she would answer within twenty minutes at the most. She just wasn't answering this time and that was what was worrying him.

He wasn't sure if it was possibly just her being female, having admitted something so emotional and then running off. She could have been afraid of his reaction or nervous to hear his response. But Amber wasn't the type to be nervous about things such as that. She would be waiting to hear from him, to hear the same words spoken back to her because she _knew_ he felt the same way. She wouldn't have spoken if she hadn't of known.

"Staring at it isn't going to cause her to answer," John mumbled from his spot in his own chair with the daily paper in his hands. He had been distracted by Sherlock actually sighing while staring at his phone as if he could make it ring. Sherlock was not known for his patience and Amber was really testing it at the moment. If the look on Sherlock's face wasn't so worried, John would have laughed. "The service on the train is horrid, you and I both know this. Remember when we traveled down south for that case with the hound? You couldn't text anyone," John reminded him in an attempt to sooth the man's clearly frazzled nerves. John would have never suspected Sherlock of worrying about a woman, but here they sat with Sherlock worried.

"Of course I remember," Sherlock snapped out in his annoyance and worry. "You don't understand."

"What don't I understand Sherlock?" John folded his paper, not snapping back as he usually would have. The man was far beyond tense. He looked as if something was really wrong, as if he felt something was off or different or wrong. In that moment John began to actually worry because Sherlock rarely let those kinds of emotions show.

"She always answers," Sherlock almost groaned out as he got to his feet, beginning to pace around their living room. "I have never had to text her more than once to get a response. Even when she was at work she would respond in seconds. If she didn't have service, or was somewhere she couldn't get service, she would text me as soon as she was able. It has been two hours John! Two hours without passing through a city or town without a tower? I highly doubt that, the way this society depends on their mobile phones," he scoffed as he came to a stop before the window.

Looking out, he noticed a police car pull up in front of the building. He watched, curious, as Lestrade exited the car followed by a man with brownish copper hair, a man Sherlock recognized as someone he had met earlier that day. There were few theories as to why that man was with the DI and none of them were favorable in Sherlock's mind. He was out of the flat before John could even ask what he had seen out the window.

Sherlock knew something had gone wrong, something had happened and now he was faced with the unknown and he didn't know where Amber was. He never should have let her go anywhere without him. He should have called her aunt and uncle, demanded to attend the wedding whether he was family or not. But no, he had listened to her, let her walk away without proper protection when they both knew that someone out there was lurking around trying to get their hands on her.

"What happened?" he growled, actually growled, as Lestrade and Thomas, looking worse for wear, entered 221B. Lestrade's face was pinched in worry, anger, and stress. "Lestrade!" Sherlock shouted now bringing Mrs. Hudson out of her flat while John came down the stairs.

"Amber is missing," Thomas was the one who spoke seeing that Lestrade was having a hard time spitting it out. He had sensed that Lestrade and Sherlock were friends of sorts and because of that the older man hadn't found the proper words to tell the younger of the two that his girlfriend was missing.

Sherlock gave such a visceral reaction, it only proved how much he actually cared for Amber. He had his good arm pushed against Thomas' windpipe, pressing the slightly taller and bigger man against the wall. No one, especially Mrs. Hudson, who squeaked at such a violent action, knew what to do. None of them had seen this side of Sherlock. "You had one job; Keep. Her. Safe. And look what you did! You got her kidnapped by a sadistic serial killer who has her sister captive. How long do you think it will be before they turn up in the Thames, just like Kelly, just like the other victims?" Sherlock raged watching as the man's face turned from red to purple. All he saw flashing before his eyes was the sight of a cold and lifeless Amber being pulled from the river. It was such a vivid image that it would have brought him to his knees if he hadn't of been choking another man.

The emotions, or the violent expression of them, was new. It was confusing and frightening. He prided himself control of both his emotions and his reactions to them. Even when faced with a threat to himself and his friends he had managed to keep himself calm. Sure he had wanted to attack Moriarty for doing such vile things, but he had managed to keep his head about him even when being told to jump or all his friends would die. Yet Amber in danger brought out a primal side of him. He wanted to protect her, keep her safe because she deserved it. He had trusted another man to protect her when she needed to be protected and he hadn't done his job. Now he'd lose his control and he didn't like it. It would appear that he had little of it as of late and it all revolved around Amber. He hoped that when this was over, when she was safe and with him once more that he would regain his emotional control.

It was Lestrade and John who pulled Sherlock off the other man who sputtered as he caught his breath. "Do yo—u think I wanted this to happen?!" he shouted, the red in his face now out of anger and aggression rather than not being able to breath. "She had to use the loo. She said she'd be fine, it was only ten feet away and I could see her go in and come out. Who knew there was a second door? I sure as hell didn't!" he shouted, wanting to smash the consulting detective's face in. The only thing keeping him from doing so was the fact that Sherlock had reacted in the manner he had hoped. Sherlock **was **in love with Amber. This was proof enough. A man didn't react in such a way to someone he was merely dating or wanting to have a tussle with between the sheets. This was the reaction of a man in love and scared of losing that love.

"Okay," seeing that Sherlock was about to launch himself back at Thomas, Lestrade stepped in just as Mrs. Hudson was scurrying back into her flat, most likely to go call Megan and let her know what was happening. For a moment everyone had forgotten about Megan needing to know and Mrs. Hudson having been standing there. They all had a tiny feeling that she had also disappeared just encase something else bad happened between the two very upset men.

"Stop," John shouted as he tugged Sherlock back forcefully until the man stumbled and nearly fell onto his ass on the stairs. "Beating each other isn't going to help this! Amber is missing and Sherlock, I know you love her and that this isn't easy, but we need you to remain level-headed."

Lestrade stood in shock at watching Sherlock blink, his usually stony eyes nearly glittering with the shock of the news, his true feelings for the little redhead were bleeding through though he fought it with every second that ticked by. He noted the shock of the consulting detective realizing how he had lost control there for a moment. It was a lovely surprise, seeing a man who bordered on being a sociopath seem so human, so emotional.

Snapping out of it as he spoke to John, seeing that Sherlock was going to take a moment to control himself, Lestrade started, "I have Donovan contacting all the people Amber told us about earlier this week. We're having a hard time contacting a few of them, but we've managed to find some contacts who know, or knew, the ones we can't reach. John, I need you to go to the yard and help her with that. I know you aren't fond of her but we need as much help as we can get and I'm hoping that you might be able to spot something that doesn't fit. These men are military men and you are, were, one."

"Right," John nodded. "Don't hit anyone," he ordered to his dark haired friend as he rushed upstairs, coming back down with his coat and keys. He left with a stern look to Sherlock.

"Sherlock," Lestrade muttered begrudgingly. What he would like the man to do right now and what he was going to ask him to do were two different things. He wanted Sherlock to stay here and not do anything rash but what he needed him to do was look into Amber's ex and his family. "I need you to find out whatever you can about Amber's ex. Not just his friends but his family. Any connections to organized crime or any other unsavory business. I couldn't pull anything up with a regular background check but you have connections that I don't or can't use. I need to know his mental state before and after his marriage to Amber as well." He turned to Thomas now. "I need you to call your family. I know you're suppose to be getting married bu—"

Thomas shook his head. "That doesn't matter now, not with Amber missing. Marcie will understand."

"Good," he said with a nod. "I need you to have your mother and father make a public announcement of the kidnapping though it's only hours old. We need anyone who could have seen Amber and the kidnapper at any point between when she was taken and right now to come forward. We need to get a photograph of her out there as well. Give them a physical description."

"With her being a ginger, and I mean bright copper curls, people should recognize her if they saw her being pushed around. She wouldn't have gone willingly that's for sure. Everyone says she's the tiger of the family, the one who pushes when she needs to but hides when the time is right. At this moment she's fighting and she's going to put that man through hell before he can harm her," Thomas explained, remembering Brianna and Kelly once telling them how Amber could bite despite her softer nature compared to those of her siblings. It came with her intelligence. She could figure out the right moment to fight and when to meekly go along. When she had been taken, Thomas doubted she would have gone meekly. She had always said if she was going to go down she would go down fighting.

"That can work in our favor. If she fought, someone must have seen it or heard it," Lestrade gave a curt nod when the other man pulled out a mobile from his pocket.

Mrs. Hudson came rushing from her flat. "Megan is on her way back from the A&E right now."

Sherlock, jaw tense, rushed up the stairs leaving the conversation to the three of them talking. He had more important things to do. The first thing he did was log into John's laptop, it still wasn't Fort Knox, and searched what he could on the internet before having to actually hit the streets. He was out the front door, seeing that everyone but Mrs. Hudson had left the building.

The older woman stopped him, her eyes were watery with tears. "You'll find her right?"

"I will find her Mrs. Hudson. Don't worry," he kissed the lady on the forehead before giving her a confident smile though his eyes read the pain of actually knowing that somewhere out there Amber was being hurt, if she hadn't already been harmed. His mind kept jumping to the worse possible conclusion, even as he managed to keep a calm facade as he turned and walked out of 221B Baker Street.

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"Get off me!" Amber screamed, a thick cotton pillow cover over her head blocking her view of anything, even her feet. She thrashed against the cuffs holding her arms behind her back. She felt the metal bite into her flesh before she felt the trickle of blood drip steadily down her hand until it traced down her fingertips to land on the ground. She had been struggling for what felt like hours, not just because she wanted to be free but because with every drop of blood she left behind she left a little part of herself for Sherlock to find. She had faith in him, knew he would find her, even without a miniscule trail of her blood to follow.

She growled as she felt a hand shove between her shoulder blades. She stumbled, twisted her ankle in the process, but refused to go down onto her knees as she knew he wanted. This man had been pulling that stunt since pulling her out of his car and walking her into some abandon building. She had refused to fall, more willing to allow her feet and ankles to take brunt of the damage than give him the satisfaction of knowing he had her submission. She was not that easy to break, despite what he assumed of her. Too much of her Scottish roots lived inside of her to be pushed around.

When he did it again, she smacked into a wall, her face cracking against the corner sharply. She groaned loudly at the shock of pain, attempting to bite her lip to keep from making any other pained sounds. She felt the blood spill down her cheek to her neck before she realized that her face now had a gash and, if she allowed herself to think about it, a cracked cheekbone. She snarled this time, struggling more so to get out of his hold. She was done. She was done with the bruises, the verbal abuse and the physical assault of being pushed around, and she wasn't about to forget the way his hand had wandered up her thigh in the car trip to wherever the hell they currently were. She knew his intentions but she also could sense that he wasn't about to act on them. He was taking to much glee in watching her being hurt.

"Let go," she shouted rather loudly, hoping that her vice echoed off the walls enough to give him cause to pause. Her Scottish was leaking into her voice, the anger and fear rising with every passing second. She had been more fearful when being walked at knife point from the bathroom in Paddington but the anger had crept in, pushing the fear aside, when she had the pillow cover thrown over her head and had been shoved into a car. She hadn't even gotten a look at the man pushing her around. The reason, well that was easy. Every time she had turned to look he had nicked her lightly with the knife. Since she wasn't willing to risk her life just to get a good look at the man's face she hadn't tried it more than a couple of times until her coat no longer took the brunt of the attacks, but her skin did. But that voice, my lord did she remember that voice.

"Please," she finally begged as she was pushed against a wall. She heard a metal door squeak open somewhere to the left of her. She heard a whimpering from inside. A soft feminine sound that only grew louder as she was roughly pulled off the wall, cuffs removed, and shoved, forcefully, into a room. The bag was pulled from her head, leaving her stunned by the darkness as the door quickly closed behind her. It was to keep the man's identity from being found out. She wanted to laugh. She knew who he was. He couldn't hide from her.

Blinking as she adjusted to the lack of light, she realized rather fast that her glasses were missing and that she didn't have her contacts on her. She wasn't blind, by no means was she unable to see, but things were slightly blurry and out of focus. She knew that with time her eyes would adjust to being without anything to help her vision, they always did. That was how she survived running without her contacts or glasses. Her eyes simply adjusted until she could see well enough with only a slight edge of blurriness.

It took a few minutes, but her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Things that she could make out where still blurry of course, but at least now she had a sense of where she was. It was a room, small, at least ten by ten. There was a single dirty looking queen size mattress in the corner housing a wisp of a woman clothed only in a thin white shirt. Bruises marred her skin, cuts and scraps adorned her body, her hair was cut short in a pixie like manner.

Amber gasped, realizing that it was her sister Brianna she was staring at. Having been shoved rather roughly into the room had caused her to finally fall, but now she was pulling herself to her feet as she rushed to her sister's side. "Oh Bri," she whispered so softly, yet it managed to get the attention of the lighter redhead before her.

"Am..ber," the other woman muttered hoarsely, as if her voice either wasn't used to speaking or she had yelled until her vocal cords couldn't take much more. Amber had a feeling it was a little bit of both.

"Oh, love, what has he done to you?" Amber asked as her hands fluttered along her sister's torn and broken skin. She didn't dare actually touch her for fear of hurting her. Her hands formed fists at her side as she swore to all things holy that she was going to kill him for doing this to someone she held so close to her heart. "I am so sorry. I should have met you and Kelly in the city earlier like planned. I shouldn't have waited, I should have just taken off. I could have prevented this if I had been with you," she rambled as the tears gathered in her eyes before spilling out and trekking their way down her cheeks to intermingle with her blood.

"No," Brianna managed to crock out as she shifted against the hold of her shackles. "This..isn't your fault."

Amber sobbed harder as she caught a better look at her sister's face now that her eyes adjusted to the lack of light. Bruises and cuts and scraps graced her face. One of her eyes was blackened while the other one looked an angry greenish yellow, as if the bruise was finally started healing. She was so thin, a wisp of the woman she had once been. Amber could make out her clavicle, and she knew beneath that shirt was the frightening sight of her ribs and hip bones. Brianna was fading away to nothing, a distant memory locked away in a cell where no one could reach her.

Until now. Amber was there but she could do nothing, as much a captive as her sister sitting before her.

Thinking, putting her skills to use, she took in the manacles holding her sister's arms and ankles. She furrowed her brows, throwing off her coat, and rummaging through her pockets until she came up with the spare bobby pin she had removed in the bathroom before being taken. She had stuck it there moments before she felt the knife slice into her coat.

_Oh my poor coat, now ruined_, she thought. She would miss it but that wasn't to be dwelt on at the moment. She tossed her coat away, knowing her mobile had been taken as had everything else on her person, save of the tiny little pin which had gotten stuck in a tear in her pocket. She thanked the years of use that coat had taken, because without them there wouldn't have been a rip and the pin wouldn't have been hidden.

She set to work on her sister's manacles, hearing the satisfying click of the tumblers falling into place as she picked the lock. It clicked open softly, freeing one of Bri's wrists. She moved onto the others, thankful that Sherlock had taken the time a couple of weeks ago teaching her the art of rightfully picking locks. She had been doing it wrong for years apparently and he had been more than excited to tell her that she was wrong, as well as delighted to get to show off. He hadn't been happy when she had picked it up the first time watching him but she had kissed him lightly until all he could do was smile softly at her, proud that she picked things up rather fast.

That smile made her smile. If she could just remember Sherlock's face, his voice, his touch, and his kisses, she would make it out of this perfectly fine. Her faith in him would save her, HE would save her because she KNEW he loved her. He might not have said it but his actions and his eyes did. They screamed it when they were alone.

"You're in love," Bri muttered lightly with a very small smile. It had been so long since she had smiled, it felt wrong, yet right at the same time. She rubbed her wrists as Amber used her coat to wipe the blood off her ankles before mopping up the cuts on her own wrists and face.

"Easy to read aren't I?" Amber joked as she pushed herself back against the wall so that she was just sitting there beside her older sister. She drew her knees to her chest as she cast her gaze on the door. She didn't give a damn if he was listening. Let him, she wanted him to hear this.

"No, you've never looked like that when in love," Bri shot a glance at the door as well, a small smug smirk on her face. She hoped he was just there on the other side of that door listening in. "You just look different."

"It's the hair, cut it a bit since the last time I saw you," she teased lightly, understanding what the girl actually meant. "He's lovely, Sherlock Holmes. Bit of an arrogant sod but he's not as much of an arse as the papers made him out to seem."

"I wouldn't know. I've been here for longer than he's been in the papers, at least according to how long I've been hear. I'd never heard of Sherlock Holmes until Satan brought up the name," Bri scoffed lightly, curling her own knees to her chest. She winced at that pain that shot through her body.

"Satan," Amber choked out with a snort of laughter, though she eyed her sister when she heard the sounds of pain. "What a lovely term to describe him!"

"Seems appropriate given the circumstances, don't you think?" Bri motioned down to her battered and somewhat broken body.

Amber flinched at the sight. "He's done some terrible things hasn't he? Raped and beaten you?" Bri nodded which caused Amer to ball her sore hands once more into fists. "He'll pay for this, I promise you Bri," she whispered as she reached for her sister's hand. They held each other tight for a moment before they both sighed, falling into silence for a couple of moments. After years of having been apart, their reunion wasn't perfect, but they were both so happy to see one another.

"Does he know you're missing yet?" Amber knew who Brianna meant when she said 'he', she meant Sherlock.

She smirked lightly. "I have no doubt about it, or at least he knows something is wrong." She didn't explain how she knew this just encase 'Satan' was standing behind the door. She didn't need him trying to trick Sherlock, even though she knew Sherlock was smart enough to realize if it wasn't her on the other end of the phone texting him. "We're about forty-five minutes, in traffic, from Baker Street. He took the long route, taking a little over two hours. I believe he just rode us around the city to throw me off. Sadly I know the streets quite well. Mental map after all," she tapped her forehead getting her sister to laugh.

"'Course you know. That memory of yours has always been the most annoying thing in the world since you discovered you could remember almost everything." Bri laughed now, the first laugh she had given in such a long time. It felt good to laugh.

"Wish I didn't remember everything sometimes. It would do well to forget a lot of what has happened in our lives." Amber sighed, knowing now what it meant when Megan called her memory a curse.

Bri nodded in understanding before they fell sober for a second. "Kelly, was her body ever found?"

"Kelly was found, yes," Amber nodded lightly as she blinked back the tears that pooled in her eyes. "Dragged from the river a few days after you two went missing. Did she suffer much?" Scared to hear the answer, Amber began to pick at the edge of the arm of her jumper while trying to refrain from looking Bri in the eyes.

Bri frowned, feeling the tears for her lost sister falling. It was a memory she would never forget even though her mind wasn't as good as Amber's. She still saw the image when she fell to sleep and she would still see it long after she made it out of this place, if she managed that. "She fought, he fought back. He strangled her and then she was gone. Her fiance, how did he handle it?"

"Not too well. He was committed for months following her death. He just broke down, tried to kill himself. Last I heard he was living with his brother and his family. I don't talk to him, it brings up to many memories for the both of us. I think, when this is over and we get the hell out of here, we'll go see him. Let him know Kelly fought until her last breath and that she will always love him." Amber smiled sadly now as she looked around the room. They would get out of this. She wasn't going to allow herself to die here, nor her sister.

The door slammed open, a blinding light pouring in. Amber blinked against the onslaught of brightness, covering her eyes as she made out the silhouette of the man before them. Before she could even react she felt a hand slap against her face, knocking her sideways in surprise. She spit blood and blinked up at him, giving him a daring smile. She was scared of the situation, but never of him.

Suddenly Bri screamed out, "No!"

Something hard smacked into Amber's head. The last thing she remembered before the world went black was the maniacal look on his face and the screaming of Bri as she fell into oblivion.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Reviews are much enjoyed! **

**A/N: Hello all, welcome to the end of the chapter. How did you all like it? Am I going to have to hide now? I know I will have to hide sooner or later and I am prepared for that! Anyways let me know what you think as well as if you spotted anything wrong or OOCish. I'm pretty sure I know what point is OOC but like I said that was intended. **

**I do have a poll on my page. I really would like you all to go check it out and vote. Your opinions count. Only ten days left!**

**Have you guys realized now that at this point there are only 3 chapters left of this story before the sequel? I mean I'm getting nervous as I'm closing in on this story. I'm sure you guys are worse off than me, I mean I know what's going to happen, you don't. Am I evil for enjoying that? Oh and before I forget if any of you reading have a tumblr please do follow me. My link is on my profile, I don't think I need to post it here any more than I have. I feel like I'm spamming you with it or something XD**

**Anyways, short authors note. So yeah, review if you want and please do go vote either way!**

**Until next time my lovelies!**


	39. Chapter 37

_Hello there. Wednesday has rolled around once more and we find ourselves with a new installment of Breaking the Barrier! As usual, enjoy the chapter and please do not feel the urge to harm me after reading this chapter ;)_

_Loki'sdreamer: Well now it would appear there are only 2 chapters left lol. Hope this chapter clears up the questions of wondering who took her as well as how she knows him. Enjoy!_

_animelover56348:...You will have to read and find out if you were right or wrong. I shall not give anything away because I don't do spoilers, at least not major ones. Enjoy the chapter!_

_Gwilwillith: Thank you! And once more thank you for pointing out my tiny mistake. I had originally meant to put south when referencing The Hounds of Baskerville. However I think in the process of writing that part I was thinking of Amber going north and somehow that was what I wrote XD So enjoy the chapter as always!_

_GraceSong: Thank you so very much! It doesn't matter that you haven't reviewed until this point, what does matter is that you have been reading and enjoying it. It honestly doesn't matter to me if someone reviews or not, though they do make me happy. I just like knowing that people are reading. It might be wicked of me to say that I enjoy being able to coax those kinds of reactions, be them laughter or crying, out of my readers. And trust me, I want to hug Amber and Bri so very much as well...and I'm the one writing this lol. Enjoy the update and I eagerly await hearing what you think of this particular chapter!_

_lightsabove: Yes they meet again. Thank you and enjoy the chapter!_

_CarminaxBuranax: So happy to hear that Sherlock was in character considering the circumstances. I was worried but like you pointed out Sherlock doesn't take well to people he cares about being hurt. I believe I made reference to that particular moment in 'A Scandal in Belgravia' in this chapter. Like always, I hope you enjoy this chapter!_

_The Yoshinator: No, that was not a sarcastic 'what gave it away?' I do want to know what gave away my love of Doctor Who lol. Anyways on a different note, enjoy the chapter!_

_Empress of Verace: Oh, I hope you've had it easy with your exams and before you know it you'll be done for the summer. You wanted to scream? Well that is a new reaction lol, but I'm happy to hear it ;) Enjoy the update and good luck on the last of your exams! Looking forward to your next review!_

_bored411: I hope you haven't had to wait too long for this chapter. Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. I do own Amber and everything else in this story you do not recognize. _

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**[037]**

Walking into Scotland Yard, Sherlock watched as most people went about their usual daily business, as if they had no idea that one of their own was missing. Of course he knew that Lestrade had contained the situation so that only those directly needed for the case actually knew about it. That meant that the handful of people involved were upstairs working to find any connection between Neil Donaghy and Amber's ex. Everyone was so focused on finding that one link because they were all sure that was where the key to solving this case lay. Even Sherlock himself believed it.

But he didn't understand how sitting around in an office calling people and doing background checks was going to help. It could help lead them in the right direction, yes, but it couldn't get her back. That was why he had, after doing his own little in-depth research on Amber's ex Scot Richardson, on which he had learned very little but enough, hit the streets.

He had taken with him a recent picture of Amber in the hopes that he could pass it around the homeless network so that maybe he could learn if anyone of them had seen her. He had given the picture to a particular woman he knew would get the photo, as well as a general physical description of Amber, out to the network faster than he could ever do on his own. He'd left a description of the man he had an inkling had taken her, but he couldn't be a hundred percent sure that he was correct in his assumptions. He could only hope he was right and that this would all be over soon.

So after finding nothing else he could do but wait and hope that one of the homeless had seen Amber and her kidnapper, Sherlock had made his way to the Yard. He was frustrated, worried, and most of all fearful for Amber. He rarely feared for others. Yes he would become angry if someone he favored were injured in someway, such as when Mrs. Hudson had been attacked by those American brutes almost two years back. The only other person he had ever felt fear for had been John, more than once. John was truly his only actual friend, at least at the time he had been. Now, he had realized he had more people in his life who counted. He hadn't even realized it until it was almost too late. Now this fact was being confirmed once more as he saw so many people he knew working as one to find Amber. Even Molly had sent him a text to see if there was anything she could do.

He slipped into the lift among several others, pressed the button of the floor he wanted to be on and cursed himself. He had hit the floor where Amber's office was located. He had spent so much time actually visiting her first before annoying Lestrade that it had become a habit to press that particular button. He wanted to grumble to himself, but with other people around him he simply looked at the panel noting that the button to the floor he actually needed had already been pressed.

Waiting as patiently as he could for people to quite literally either get on or off on every floor onto his way up to Lestrade, he stood in the back watching people. It was exceedingly boring but it passed the couple of minutes until he spilled out on the proper floor and stalked his way to Lestrade's office.

"We haven't found anything," the DI said rubbing his hand over his face and pushed it up into his hair. "We haven't found a goddamn thing!" he exclaimed harshly.

All Sherlock did was blink, not at all put off by the tone the other man was using. "Has the cousin contacted his family?"

"He's been on the phone with them for hours now. They are working on a press conference as we speak. Her uncle is on his way to London, should be here in about a half an hour or so. You'd have to talk to Thomas about that, he's the one in contact with his family," he grumbled lightly, motioning to the man pacing across the bullpen with a mobile pressed to his ear. He didn't look at all pleased, in fact he looked as if he were about to scream or strike someone.

"John and Donovan than? Have they figure anything out?" The less he learned the more cold he became. It was his minds way of steeling itself against the worry he felt for Amber. That wasn't saying he wasn't worrying, far from it. In all actuality he wanted to tug at his hair and pace in frustration. Two very unusual feelings for him, that was for sure.

Lestrade shook his head lightly. "I haven't heard from them in quite a while. Last time I checked in they were bickering over how to go about contacting the names on Amber's list. And what have you been doing?"

"Something you have not, as of yet," he boasted coolly as he walked out of the office leaving the DI to follow on his heels.

"What's that then?"

"The homeless are a vast and easily ready resource. I'm surprised you haven't figured that out!" Sherlock spoke as he long stride ate up the distance between his current location and that of John.

"What does that mean?!"

"It means that I've given them a description of Amber and I fully believe that by the end of day we will know where she was taken!" He thought for a moment. "Or at least by whom."

Lestrade frowned. "What?"

Sherlock turned on his heels nearly causing Lestrade to smack right into him. "Must I spell it out for you? I gave a physical description as well as a photograph of Amber to those in the homeless community I have a connection to. With a little incentive, they are more than willing to keep their eyes open and their ears to the ground. Since they have a faster system than this place, I can assume they will have her location or at least a description of who kidnapped her."

"Okay," Lestrade continued to frown. "Let me understand this, you are putting all your hope into a bunch of homeless people in greater London?"

"Yes." Sherlock sighed, annoyed that the man wasn't understanding.

"Why?"

"Because, in the past, they have proved to be a better resource than Scotland Yard. So while you lot are sitting around, they are looking and gathering the information I need," Sherlock snarled as he entered the room where John sat in front of a computer and Donovan sat on the phone, currently looking as if she wanted to strangle the person on the other end of the line.

"But why would you believe that the homeless have this information and not just someone else?" Lestrade asked, completely confused as to why Sherlock would go to the homeless, who were far less reliable as witnesses.

Sherlock just sighed before John cut off his snide remark, "The homeless often go unnoticed in the city. You pass a person sleeping on the bench in the park while you're on the phone, what do you do? You continue on as if no one is there. You're arguing with a mate while coming out of a pub, mind you this is a personal argument, and there's a homeless man curled in the alley not more than five feet from you. You just keep on talking, right? They can find information because they are invisible in our society. No one seems to notice them."

"Thank you John," Sherlock mumbled, completely sincere when he said it, although annoyed that it had to be said in the first place. He was sure that John's basic, yet correct, assessment would make the DI understand. He wasn't in the mood to explain it in full when he had other things he could be focused on. "Have YOU found anything?" he asked knowing that if anyone of the idiots around him, John would be the one to find something.

"No," John started causing Sherlock to sigh in annoyance once more. "Nothing of use anyways. We contacted several other people who knew Amber's ex and some of his friends. A few were quite surprised to hear that Scot was dead. It seemed a little odd to me, so I did a little..."

"Brilliant!" Sherlock shouted suddenly, surprising them all. "The ex? Did anyone actually confirm it was his body they pulled out of that car crash?"

As Donovan hung up the phone, Lestrade furrowed his brows as he frowned. "Are you seriously considering that this has been orchestrated by a dead man?"

"Yes! I faked my own death, what's stopping other people from doing the same?"

It was John's turn to frown, "Why would he want to fake his own death? He has, rather had, nothing to gain?"

"Think about it, he's a military man home from service, injured. He meets a pretty little redhead in a pub and woos her. She's young, naïve, and brilliant at the same time, yet she fancies herself in love with him. She marries him and for a little while they live in ignorant bliss, until she gets pregnant. Then reality hits him. He's got to grow up, leave behind his partying ways because he's going to be a dad, and oh how happy he is about that. A family of his own!

"However, tragedy strikes and they lose the baby. He falls into the drink and she becomes distant because she can't help but blame herself. Maybe it's something she did, or something she didn't do during the pregnancy. They drift apart, yet he still loves her while she's realizing that she never loved him. It was a school yard crush and she wants out now that she realizes it will never be what she wants, or needs. So they divorce and just like that his tidy little life, the one he worked so hard for, falls apart in front of him. He falls more into a bottle, days are spent working a menial job and then he goes home to an empty house that used to have a wife and a soon-to-be child. He drinks himself to sleep for years, the rage and anger building up as he begins to blame the redhead who ruined it all, who shattered his dreams of being normal when all he thought and dreamed about was the war he left behind. He blames her for everything and he learns that she has moved on, she's living in a new city with friends, working a job she loves, and hasn't looked back.

"He starts to think how that isn't far, how that should be him and not her. She's the one who ruined their lives, why should she be happy? He gets angrier and angrier until he finally snaps. The loss of a child, the love of his life, or so he believed, and the loss of the life he wanted. He just snaps. He gets this idea, this funny little idea. No one would care or notice if he went missing, especially not her. So why not? Kill someone that looks like him, shove him in the car he owns, and make it look like a drunk driving accident. There wouldn't be anyone to identify the body, his family being small and gone. The police would figure out who he was by the fact of his car registration was in his name and there was only one body in the car, well that just works in his favor.

"He takes a couple months, contacts a man who has an obsession with _her_ and works out this game. He kills for fun, it takes off the edge, quells the angry just enough that he can still think and function properly. He kidnaps her twin sisters because he can and they look sort of like her. One fights back so he kills her, he only needs one after all. He keeps her, tortures her, finds a way to use that against _her._ Finally the henchman he was using gets killed. Stupid mistake, using someone in the first place. He ups the game, learns she's visiting family. He kidnaps her in plain view because he knows he can, because he knows she won't fight. He's been following her, knows how scared of him she is. Finally she fears him and he's enjoying it. She's his now and he believes that no one can find him." Sherlock rambled off at such a fast pace that barely anyone in the room fully comprehended what he had said. However, they all seemed understood the gist of what he was trying to get at.

Donovan, having never actually witnessed one of his speeches first hand, could only just stare at him, slightly awestruck. He was fast, made the connections at such an incredible rate that she couldn't believe, for a moment at least, that she ever thought he was a fake. The only one she had ever heard make such long winded, and usually correct, assumptions was Amber. Even then girl wasn't that fast.

"What you're saying is that Scot Richardson, Amber's ex husband, faked his death because he blamed her for how his life didn't go how he wanted it to? And you believe he's alive, somewhere in the city, holding Amber and her sister Brianna hostage as punishment? And he's killed people for fun?" Lestrade asked, amazed that he had even managed to keep up with half of what the man before him had been rambling about.

"Precisely," Sherlock nodded, as if annoyed that he was being asked those questions since he had just answered them.

"There's no record of him anywhere as of three years ago. We can't find him," Donovan informed them all, looking a little upset at that. While she might not have liked Amber, she knew the Scottish woman was a good person and didn't deserve what might be happening to her at that moment.

Sherlock grumbled something about knowing who could help, told John to meet him at 221B in about two hours, and then walked out of Scotland Yard. He knew the one place he had to go and he didn't quite enjoy knowing he actually needed this man's help.

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Brianna sat there looking at her sister's limp form now tied up. They were both tied, and when said tied, she quite literally meant they were tied up. With rope instead of chains and shackles. They had proved that with a simple bobby pin they could pick the locks and free themselves. Satan had reasoned that industrial strength rope would keep them better than manacles anyways. Less risk of injury beside rope burn, which he mentioned was more painful than cold metal slicing into soft flesh.

She had fought the whole time, Amber having been unconscious through the whole thing, including a pretty nasty beating. He had stooped to a new level, harming a defenseless person who couldn't even shout an insult let alone attempt to protect herself. Amber now sat bloody, her arms tied above her head, her ankles tied together, and her body now riddled with bruises.

The only reason Bri could see her sister's body was because Satan had stripped her and put her in the same white shirt that she herself was in. He hadn't touched her, any more than was beyond the usual creepiness. He hadn't raped her, thank God. He had left her in her bra and panties before slipping on the shirt, in almost a wistful manner. It was in that very moment that she had realized who Satan was, and it angered her. She hadn't pointed out that she knew, she wasn't that stupid. She didn't want to die and letting him know she knew who he was, well that was the quickest way to a watery grave.

But the beating he had give Amber, it was terrible. He had left her face alone, save for the vicious blow to the head which had knocked her out. She knew that he wanted to wait until Amber was awake to give her the facial bruises she herself had.

The minutes ticked on until finally Bri heard the rattling sound of Amber coming around to consciousness. She heard her sister cough violently before groaning as she tried to curl her tired and tied body into a ball due to the pain. "Oh," the copper headed girl moaned and rolled her pain dulled eyes up to look at her sister.

"Bastard beat me while I was out didn't he?" she asked, her voice rough with pain and her natural accent.

"Yeah," Brianna mumbled as she tried not to cry at the sight of her sister looking so defeated in that moment. "I tried Amber, I tried so hard. But he slapped me, threatened to...to rape me again and kill me. I just..." she sobbed quietly having not words for how truly sorry she was that she hadn't been able to stop her from being hurt.

"Brianna, this isn't your fault. If you weren't here I think he might have done worse. Scot always did have a terrible temper and I know he's drinking. I could smell it on him when he took me from the train station." Amber's voice was beginning to return to normal, well as normal as it would under the intense pain she felt radiating through her legs, arms and ribs. She was so thankful he hadn't beaten her abdomen in any kind of way. She knew the sort of damage a beating to the stomach could do and she didn't want to risk that.

"How long have you known it was Scot?" her sister asked, not at all stunned that Amber had figured out who their assailant was.

"From the moment he put the knife to my back and told me to walk. I could never forget that Welsh voice even if it were to save my life," Amber spit out, hoping that he was once more listening. She knew he was going to come back, she knew he was going to beat her again. She was prepared for that. She was prepared for the worst but she knew that by this point Sherlock most definitely knew she was missing and had figured out what had happened. Sherlock was a smart man and he would figure out who had taken her and most likely why, even if she was still wondering that herself.

"Why does he think you ruined his life?" Brianna asked, giving a careful glance towards the door while biting at her lip.

It hit Amber in that moment, a gut wrenching pain as she realized why Scot would feel she ruined his life. She felt tears gather in her eyes as she looked down at her lap, seeing the dark bruises splattering her pale legs. Legs that Sherlock had only see a couple times in her night shorts. Now if he saw her skin he'd see the marks, the bruises. It disgusted her, knowing that her body was marred. She wasn't highly superficial but seeing those marks, they hurt her pride and gave her shame. She had allowed a man, a man she had once trusted, to harm her in a way she promised herself she would never allow anyone to do.

"Amber, love, are you alright? You're crying," Brianna's voice was soft and gentle from across the small distance separating them.

Amber nodded, realizing her thoughts had drifted far off the topic. "Yeah," she mumbled, focusing her mind back to the original question asked and not on the bruises littering her body. "He thinks I ruined his life because of everything that happened."

"What does that mean?" Brianna frowned.

"He met me and his life went to hell. We married, almost had a child which I lost, and then I divorced him. I always thought that it was mutual, the divorce. He never spoke up against it, even when we sat down and talked. Looking back now, maybe I had missed some subtle clues along the way that told me he didn't want to be divorced. I just assumed because we became so distant after our son's death and I thought he had the same thoughts I had, that we had just been young and hadn't truly been in love. I suppose that was what started this mental break of his," she sighed heavily. It was her fault in the end. If she had simply talked to him instead of shut him out maybe they could have truly split on even terms without him feeling so much hate for her in the end. It might have saved lives if she had done that. Kelly would be alive and Brianna wouldn't be suffering. But if none of this hand happened, would she still have met Sherlock? Would she still have fallen in love with him? So many questions that she didn't even want to think about.

Brianna frowned harder this time having not noticed her sister slip off into her own thoughts again. "But I thought he was dead."

"So did I." It was when she had been talking about her father's watch that she had realized something wasn't right. The watch she had in her flat, it WAS her father's. Yet pulling up the mental image of the watch which had been buried with Scot, or whoever that poor sod had been, hadn't looked right. It hadn't had the right shine, the dial hadn't been as bright. It just hadn't been right and she had overlooked it because she hadn't really cared. That was terrible of her but she had been burying a major part of her life at that point and she just hadn't wanted to think about it overly much. If she had actually taken that time to give it a good think she would have realized that something had been wrong then. She hadn't even been able to tell that the body in the casket wasn't Scot. His face had been damaged and the person who had done the facial reconstruction for the funeral had gone by his driving license. She hadn't known! That was what made her so confused and angry now. She always prided herself on knowing when something was right or when something was off and out of place, yet she hadn't even noticed that the body at the funeral hadn't been Scot's.

She felt like an idiot.

It was than that the door opened, that they both took in a deep breath as Scot walked in the door. He was whistling a merry little tune, which put both women on edge. "Hello ladies," he smiled at them. "Or should I say whores? Lord knows you've both given it away enough."

Amber flinched at that. She wasn't a whore, her sister wasn't a whore. But having it directed at her hurt more than hearing it directed at her sister. She knew Brianna wasn't innocent in that kind of way. Brianna had always talked to Amber about those kinds of things, something she hadn't always felt comfortable telling her twin, Kelly. So Amber knew that Bri had gotten around more than she herself had, that and the girl was older than herself. She'd had more partners and was more of a social butterfly while Amber had always been the one to sit in the background at parties and social events.

It hurt more because she knew that Scot had been the only sexual partner she had ever had. If she thought about it, in her whole twenty eight years of life she could count on her hands and feet how many times she had had sex. She hadn't had sex with Scot until after they were married and then he was always away for work or she was at school or at small social events with her family. Then she'd gotten pregnant and Scot had been scared, yes he had been scared, that having intercourse would harm the baby in someway despite what she and the doctors told him. Then they had lost the baby and they hadn't had contact after that.

"She's not a whore," Brianna snarled out, as deadly as a butterfly trapped in a glass jar.

"Oh yes, she is!" Scot sang as he waltzed farther into the room until he came to kneel beside Amber. He took her face in his hand, the pressure of his thumb and fingers on her jawline leaving bruises. She hissed in pain as her eyes read of the anger she felt. "So much fight. Why don't you tell your dear sister here what you've been up to with Mr. Sherlock Holmes these last six months while she's been down here suffering."

Amber grunted as he forced her to look at her sister. Brianna now looked confused and slightly saddened.

"Come on, out with it," Scot growled, using his free hand to punch her in the side.

She grunted loudly, swearing she heard something akin to a rib snapping as her eyes filled with tears. She blinked, felt the wetness seep down her cheeks. She looked at her sister and spoke honestly. "I haven't done a thing with him. My virtue is still intact."

He removed his hand from her jaw, only to slap her harshly across the face. She screamed this time with the shock and sudden pain. "Don't lie love, that's a sin. I know you've been cuddling up with that man. Neil had all the pictures of the two of you holding hands, kissing at crime scenes, and snuggling. Now why don't you tell her the truth. You've been fucking Mr. Holmes while she's been stuck here. I wonder what else you were doing while I've had her here." He wondered out loud.

"I've never done anything with Sherlock, but lord have I wanted to!" Amber screamed now, her anger riding high on the emotional roller coaster she seemed to be on. She strained against her bonds, struggled, and felt the neat tear of rope against flesh until they were wet with her blood. "He's a hundred times better a man that you ever could be Scot Richardson, a hundred times better!"

That was when she felt the first punch to her cheek, the crack sickening in the silent room. She heard her own whimper as she fell limply against the wall while Brianna screamed for him to stop. She felt the kick to her thigh, the Earth shattering pain of the blow bringing a howl from her throat. But she didn't care at that moment. She wanted him angry, she wanted him pissed off. He had always made mistakes when he was angry, even when they had been married. He had never so much as laid a hand on her when they had been together, he had been too good a man back then to do that. But when he had gotten angry he had, more often than not, broken something in the process.

"He makes me feel," she panted out feeling another blow to her face, a slap this time. "He makes me feel alive. My blood races and my heart sores. I never felt that with you!" She laughed this time, even as she grunted when his fist collided with her temple. She saw the stars, felt the pain but shook it off. "He'd never hit me, he'd never blame me for ruining his life. He doesn't drink his pains and sorrows away, he's more likely to talk it out than you ever had been. Like I said," she grunted with the kick to her hip. "He's more of a man than you'll ever be." She gave a manic laugh feeling another hit to her ribs and then a punch to the eye. She screamed and grunted and moaned until finally he stopped with the beating. He was panting...and crying oddly enough. She hoped her words had stung him because they were so very true. Sherlock was a better man.

That finally made him leave as Amber hunched over and spit the blood out of her mouth. She was so happy when a tooth didn't come with it. She hissed as she shifted, feeling the ropes loosening with the blood that had seeped into the fabric. That was her goal. If she could soften the rope enough she could slip out of them and hopefully get them out of there. Or at least do some damage to Scot before anything worse happened to them.

"Amber. Amber!" Brianna's voice was ragged, thready, and nervous as Amber hacked up more blood. "Amberlyn!"

"What?" Amber wheezed out, the sinking suspicion that her lung had been punctured by the blows to the ribcage she had taken growing in her mind. She hoped not, because that would be bad, really bad.

"Are you alright?" the woman sighed out, thankful for some kind of response.

Switching to a default in her personality, Amber sarcastically replied with, "Perfectly fine Bri. I feel like I've spent a week at a spa."

Brianna couldn't help but chuckle through her tears. "Thank God. I thought I had to worry there for a second," she shot back. They looked at one another across the room before falling into a small fit of giggles, punctuated by coughing on Amber's part. They were stuck in a room, beaten and bloody, tied opposite one another by a man one had been married to at one point, and now they were laughing. It was like a horror movie or a very terribly written mystery novel.

The laughter eventually turned into quiet sobs as the both realized that there was little chance of them getting out of this before much worse happened.

000000000000000

Sherlock stood in the great-room of his brother's row house. He stood there, arms behind his back, hands clasped, still in his coat and scarf as he stood waiting for his brother to show his face. Upon his arrival Sherlock had been escorted inside by Anthea who had then scurried off to find Mycroft wherever he was within the house. He had no doubt that woman was just as surprised as his older brother would be to learn he was standing there in a house he had rarely bothered to visit.

It only took a few minutes but eventually his brother did show himself. "What pleasure do I owe for this rare visit?" the man asked coolly as he walked into the room. Mycroft eyed his brother for a moment, taking in the tense stance and features pinched in worry. For Sherlock to be showing that much emotion, he knew that something was very wrong. Of course he knew what was wrong but wasn't about to say anything. He was going to let Sherlock do that.

He motioned towards the two chairs sitting in front of the hearth, which was lit to cast the dim room in warm shadows.

Sherlock shook his head at the offer and watched as Mycroft took a seat. He looked every bit the person Sherlock knew, yet he seemed a little more relaxed in his own home. Instead of in his suit he was in a simple pair of trousers and a button down shirt, his feet clad in argyle socks. On a normal day he would have thrown an insult out at his brother's appearance but tonight wasn't the proper time, no matter how much he wanted too.

"At this point I'm sure you are aware that Amber has gone missing," he started, staying where he stood as he watched his brother react to this little bit of information.

Mycroft bobbed his head in conformation, "I am more than aware. Detective Inspector Lestrade called hours ago to inform me. Why you are here, when you clearly know that I know Amber has been taken, is the real question, is it not?"

Sherlock bit back the remark, the mental image of Amber raising her brow and telling him to play nice flashed through his mind. It stung, knowing that if she was there she would have said something, but she wasn't and that hurt. He had grown so custom to her pointing out his rudeness that it had become a normal thing between the two of them. Sometimes he listened, sometimes he ignored her. Today, with her not being there, he listened to the mental image of her instead of carrying on with his remark. He didn't have time for it after all. "I can assume that you have looked into Amber's personal and family background."

"You have assumed correct," his brother stated simply.

"I need to know what you know about her family," Sherlock practically grounded out. He was in no mood for this game. "More specifically her ex-husband, Scot Richardson."

"If you're asking do I know where he might be, the answer is no."

Sherlock felt his eyes widen. "You know he is alive then?"

"I had an inkling. You do know that Amber and I have a sort of arrangement, correct?"

Sherlock's gaze darkened considerably. He didn't like that Amber talked to Mycroft, but the money she transferred into his account was worth the aggravation so that he didn't have to hear John whine about their lack of funds. "Yes."

"When I first approached her, I made sure to do my research. I learned quite a bit about your lovely little redhead, most of which I am sure you have already figured out. However what I did learn, that I doubt even she knew about, was that her husband, even after his supposed death, was still drawing money from his bank account. He used a different name of course, a name I was assured he put on the paperwork as someone who was allowed access to his money. I paid it no mind until this terrible business came to a head when you were shot. Going a little deeper into her husband's financial records, I found that not only was money withdrawn from his account following his death, but that it had never been closed and money had been deposited at least once a month and usually withdrawn several days following." Mycroft explained, eyeing his brother for a reaction.

"What was the name used?" Sherlock asked, staring down his brother who sat stoic in the chair in front of the fireplace.

"Colton."

While he was surprised at the name, he didn't show it. "Perhaps a Lyell Colton?"

"No, Richard Colton. I can assume you have encountered someone with the last name of Colton."

"A friend of Amber's ex. A friend who served with him. Using his surname isn't very smart and neither is using a variant of his own surname. Lestrade can run the alias. Has it shown up anywhere else in your 'research'?"

"No," he said simply watching as his brother turned to leave without so much as a goodbye. He'd gotten all he needed to know. "Sherlock," he called.

Sherlock turned now to see his brother out of his chair and standing, a look of worry on his face.

"You are in love with her, aren't you?" Mycroft asked as he walked to one of the bookshelves flanking the fireplace.

"Yes," the younger of them answered simply, curious as to what his brother was doing.

Giving a nod, Mycroft opened a chest on one of the shelves pulling out a small box. "Then I believe, brother, that you deserve this," he handed Sherlock the small box, not saying what it might contain.

Sherlock frowned at it for a moment, not asking anything, before pocketing it. He gave his brother a nod and saw himself out of the flat leaving his older brother to worry just a little more than he normally did.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Reviews are very much welcome!**

**(Kinda long)A/N: And there we have it, the end of chapter 37. I just realized that this story will only have 39 chapters. I was aiming for 40 originally but things happened. Some things got moved around, taken out, and replaced and it left me a chapter short of my original goal. Either way, it's still pretty lengthy...right? So if this is chapter 37 and there are 39 chapters in total, what does that mean? 2 chapters left until we come to the end of this story! I still can't believe it. In a week it will all be over...*sob* but then we get the sequel so that makes it all better!**

**I wanted to clear something up, just in case anyone will/has wonder(ed). This story is AU if you haven't figured that out already. We all know that the events of the show took place over an 18 month period of time starting in early 2010, meaning Sherlock jumped in 2011 if I've done the math right. This story takes place in October 2012 forward, so the amount of time Sherlock was gone was a little over a year, again if I have done the proper math. However we all know that in the show Sherlock has been gone for nearly 2 years now. This is why my story is AU, because I'm acting outside of canon events. I just thought I'd point that out, hope no one is angry about that or confused. I'm more than willing to explain my thought process.**

**Okay, anyways let me know what you thought of the chapter, again pointing out any OOC type issues you might have noticed as well as any plot issues. You guys are so very helpful with that :) And, I have a very big request for all my readers. I am having a slight issue with coming up with little cases for Sherlock, Amber, and John to work on in the next story. I have the general plot, the central issues, and main case, but I want to write little ones in between the major plot points and I'm kind of having an issue coming up with ideas. So if you want, you don't have to if you don't want to, you can send me your ideas either in a review or a PM. Like I always say at the bottom of the chapter, suggestions are very much welcome. And of course you'll get credit for the idea when I use it :)**

**To animelover56348, as you've figured out, you were right in your review. I have taken it upon myself to call you Sherly from now on because I was sure that no one would actually figure it out. Okay I KNEW someone/everyone would figure it out but I didn't think anyone would say anything lol. I tried to be subtle but I think I failed in that respect lol. **

**Like always there is a poll on my profile. I would like for anyone who hasn't voted to please do so. I like hearing the opinions of my readers. You don't have to vote if you really don't want to but I would love if you did! To all of you who have voted, thank you so much!**

**Okay, until next time my lovelies. I'm gonna go hide now because I fear that between this chapter and the next that someone is going to want to hurt me! Lol.**


	40. Chapter 38

_Welcome once more to the Sunday edition of Breaking the Barrier. This is the second to last chapter, as you are all aware of. Enjoy the ride!_

_**Loki'sdreamer: **Thank you, I'm glad you liked that idea. I was so worried that it wouldn't make sense. Oh, you'll find out what Mycroft gave Sherlock ;) Enjoy the chapter!_

_**skidney:** Aw, thank you. Enjoy the chapter!_

_**Empress of Verace:** I am so glad to know that I surprised you and managed to confuse you...unless you have questions. In that case please do send me any questions you might have lol. I hope your exams went well and welcome to summer break! Enjoy the chapter!_

_**The Yoshinator:** As stated above, I am glad I managed to surprise you, as well as the others. Oh, I had a feeling it was my tumblr url that gave it away lol. That and I did leave little DW hints throughout this story. Did you spot any? Anyways, enjoy the chapter!_

_**CarminaxBuranax:** Yay! I had you on the edge of your seat. I'm so happy that I have managed to do that to so many people with that last chapter. This one might be the same lol. It took so much thinking for me to plan out everything from the last chapter. I wanted it to seem believable that Amber's ex was behind this. And I'm happy that Sherlock hasn't been OOC. He's so hard to write XD Of course Mycroft would get involved. He worries so much about Sherlock. Enjoy the chapter!_

_**GraceSong:** Huh, I have been foreshadowing a little haven't I? Hope I did that successfully without seeming to over the top. Oh that box. I wonder what was in it? Well you'll have to wait and see lol. Enjoy the chapter as always!_

_**lightsabove:** Oh that bo...hm, read and find out what it's all about, well not in this chapter anyways lol. Enjoy the chapter!_

_**Gwilwillith:** Thank you and enjoy!_

_**animelover56348:** Yep you are now Sherly. And don't feel sorry, you should feel proud. You made a guess, not even sure you were right or not, and you were right. You have the right to feel proud lol. Thank you so much for the compliments on the chapter, plot, and story as a whole. I hope you enjoy this chapter as you have the others!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, though I sometimes wish I did. I do own Amber and Megan and everything you do not recognize which includes the plot!_

* * *

**[038]**

After having exited Mycroft's home, Sherlock decided to walk down the street for a few moments. When he had walked several blocks Sherlock pulled his phone from his pocket staring at it intently for a second. He sent a simple text to Lestrade while the name was still fresh on his mind.

**Run name Richard Colton. Could be alias if ex. -SH**

He knew that the DI would be able to find something on that name, even if it was just an alias. If the name could be traced to a bank account or any kind of paperwork then they would be lead, in some manner, to where Amber and Brianna were being held. That was if the name came up in any other searches besides the one concerning Scot Richardson's bank account. It was more than likely that the man had been smart enough not to use the same name twice but it was also entirely possible that he used it more than once without even realizing it. Either way they would be one step closer to getting Amber back.

As Sherlock made his way to Baker Street via cab, he noticed that the sun was beginning to set. She had been missing since that morning, and before long it would be twelve hours since he had last set eyes on her. He hadn't realized how hard that was. He went hours, sometimes days, without talking. He had done that with Amber once, she had simply sat in the flat with him while his mind worked, quiet as a mouse with a book in her hands or music in her ears. But talking was one thing, seeing someone was another.

Even when he was off in his own world he was aware when people left and came back. He would never admit it to John, having enjoyed the raise he got out of the other man when asking him for something like a pen and saying he had asked a while ago when John had in fact not been there. But he was always hyper aware of those around him, especially after the whole affair with Moriarty and then with Amber's flat having been broken into. He was even more aware of Amber, given his emotional feelings for her. However, she wasn't here now and boy was he aware of that.

He had even caught himself getting ready to ask a question or text, only to realize she wasn't there any more. She was somewhere else, being held against her will by her sadist of an ex-husband who couldn't handle the emotional strain of her not loving him any longer.

The buzzing of his phone caught his attention, drawing him out of the dark corner his mind had put him into.

**Woman claimed to have seen Amber and kidnapper. At 221B now. -JW**

Sherlock reread the message, feeling a smile spread across his face as he realized what that meant. If this woman who was claiming to have seen the kidnapper and Amber than it was more than likely that he would be able to get her back before the night was over. If the woman wasn't reliable than it could be several hours, if not days before he got any more information.

He was deposited in front of 221B where he paid the fare and rushed into the flat. It was dark inside, which was unusual. The only time the entrance hall was ever dark was in the middle of the night when all the inhabitants were supposedly sleeping. Sometimes they were, other times they were doing various activities until the finally succumbed to sleep.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he strode into the flat he shared with John. He found a small, frail looking woman with dark brown hair sitting on the couch with a cup of tea in her hands. She didn't look homeless, not in the sense that he was used to. She was well put together, worn jeans, scarred trainers, and a black jumper. A well worn coat was draped across the arm of the couch.

He flicked his gaze to John, who simply rose a brow. "Sherlock, this is Alex Marrow, she works for a local homeless shelter."

"How did you know where to come if you are not a part of the homeless network?" he questioned in way of greeting. He didn't care to waste time on introductions when they weren't needed and would only put a strain on the already tight time constraint he felt himself under.

The woman's eyebrows raised. "I do have a lot of contact with several members of the homeless community Mr. Holmes. It would be wise that you branch out and use those who help them as well. We can always do with some extra cash to help those who can't help themselves."

John couldn't help but snicker at how the little lady had lit into his best friend. The look on Sherlock's face, well it was only the look he gave when Amber had done the same. It was one of surprise and annoyance. "You have information on Amber then?"

"The redhead lass you've been running about the city with? Yes, I do." She didn't waste any time jumping into the story, being quick with it, on how she had seen Amber. "I was doing a run for another shelter just across the city. I was driving down a small side street when I caught sight of a black car sitting in front of an abandon building. I was curious so I watched for a moment as a tallish man with blondish brown hair got out, walked around the side, pulled open the door, and yanked a smaller body out of the passenger's side. It was clearly a woman given the build of her but to be truthful I didn't think anything of it. There was no weapon and she wasn't screaming or struggling. He wasn't being overly aggressive and I just assumed it was a couple of kids being spontaneous or stupid. I thought that maybe he was surprising her with a nice quiet spot to well," she blushed. "Have a little tussle.

"When I got back to the center I was informed that you Mr. Holmes had sent around a description of a woman who had been kidnapped. Though I didn't see her face I did see her build and her distinctive bright blue trainers which clashed with the black of her jeans. I rushed over her as fast as I could."

"Do you remember the address?" Sherlock could feel his heart rate increasing as it raced with the knowledge that this woman had, in fact, seen Amber and her kidnapper.

"Of course, when I stopped there my GPS system saved the address."

"John, get the address. I have something I need to see to," Sherlock ordered as he walked from the living room down the stairs as he made his way to Amber's flat. It had been hours since anyone had been down there, at least he assumed so, but what he found surprised him.

Sitting on Amber's couch was Mrs. Hudson with a crying Megan curled up, using the older landlady's lap as a pillow. Mrs. Hudson was stroking the girl's head, soothing her in a way that only someone with motherly instincts could do. Sherlock was quite stunned but didn't let it show.

"Mrs. Hudson," he called softly getting the attention of both women.

Megan was off the couch in a flash, her fist connecting with Sherlock's jaw. "Son of a bitch," she heaved as she started Sherlock in the eyes. He rubbed his jaw coldly. "Don't just stand there all stoic, or do you not bloody care that a woman who loves you is missing? You have one fucking job, protect her. You promised!" Her knees gave out beneath her and if it hadn't of been for Sherlock she would have slammed to the ground. As it was, he managed to grab her before she fell, depositing her on the couch beside Mrs. Hudson.

"She's been like this all day Sherlock."

All he could do was nod solemnly. "We have a lead on where Amber might be being held and we know who. I came down to see if her animals had been taken care of. I see you have seen to that so I'll leave you to it."

"Who?" Megan asked weakly from Mrs. Hudson's arms.

"Scot Richardson," he stated simply, but as he said the name he realized he wanted to growl it out. He hadn't encountered a name he hated more than Jim Moriarty until right that moment. "Apparently he faked his own death just to get to Amber."

Megan looked at him, eyes full of tears, stunned, and angry all at once. Mrs. Hudson looked shocked. "Her ex-husband? Why would he do this?"

"Because he's an asshat," Megan growled. "Amber would never admit it, I mean he was a nice man for the most part, but he did have a terrible temper. She always played it off as PTSD, but my mother was a psychologist and I've seen my far share of PTSD sufferers come through the A&E over my time working there. He didn't have it, not enough to make him that angry and violent. He never touched Amber, never laid a hand on her, but he often broke things and blamed her when he got angry. It never lasted though, that angry. Within moments he said he was sorry and trying to make it up to her. When she became pregnant he mellowed out but the temper came back even worse after she lost the baby. Still he never struck her but I could always tell he blamed her and that he was angry about it. He never deserved her and she realized this, maybe not consciously though. He's after her now because he blames her for how terrible his life turned out, for all he's lost. He wants to see her suffer and he started with killing Kelly and taking Bri. The stalking was just a side benefit to watch her squirm."

Sherlock looked at her. Amber had never mentioned that her ex had a temper. She had always spoken about him in such a favorable light, yet here he stood listening to a completely different side of the same story. Maybe it had been because Amber had cared for him that she hadn't seen the monster that lurked inside the man she pledged her life to. But did that mean that her love for him blinded her from whatever lurked within himself? He wasn't naïve, he knew that he had a darkness within him, all people did. He knew he could come off as rude or mean and brash, but was Amber blinded to that or did she truly not care?

"She loves you," Megan whispered, having caught the gambit of emotions playing across his features. She doubted he had even realized he had show those feelings and thoughts. Everyone thought Megan was just a pretty face but she could see, she emphasized more than she cared to. She worked in a job where she saw all sorts of people from all walks of life and all personalities. She had learned to read faces, smiles, frowns, and the small little details that gave things away. Sherlock was only a man after all and all men felt in some way, even if they didn't want to show it.

"What blinded her to the demons inside Scot wasn't love, it was the illusion of love. With you Sherlock, she loves you because of those demons. She sees them, lurking right under the surface, and she just doesn't care." When he just looked at her she wiped her eyes and sighed. "I see things Sherlock. I'm not just some dumb woman who is best friends with a redheaded genius. I'm smart too, nowhere near as smart as you or Amber but good enough. I can read people Sherlock, I grew up with a mother who read people for a living. I work in a job in which I have to read people because not everyone is willing to talk. I can tell when my best friend is in love and when she's not. It has always been the matter of letting her figure it out for herself. And I know she loves you and I know that you feel the same. So find her and don't let her go, not for anything. She deserves a true slice of happiness and if you can give it to her than so be it because she also makes you happy." Megan stalked out of the living room after than, right into Amber's room where she shut the door gently.

"You're going to bring her home, I know you will," Mrs. Hudson patted him on the cheek as she walked by and out of the flat. Sherlock was left there wondering when Amber had endeared herself to so many people. She claimed she wasn't close to anyone but her family and Megan, yet here he saw so many people, even people like himself who hadn't know her that long, wanting her back with such a passion. It amazed him so very much.

He left the flat to Megan, who would look after it until Amber was safely back inside it, and headed back of the tiny flight of stairs leading from the basement to the ground level. He was met by John who had just escorted the lady with the information out the front door. He had in his hands his coat and a piece of paper.

"I've got the address," he said as Sherlock gave a curt nod before they were both out the door attempting to hail a cab. Like usual on Baker Street they actually managed to do so with relative ease. It was John who gave the address with the condition that they needed to get there as soon as possible. They even offered to pay a little extra if need be.

But the cabbie had sensed that there was a bit of urgency in both of the men in the back of his taxi so he just smiled and told them that it was perfectly fine, he understood about needing to be somewhere fast. It took a total of forty eight minutes until they arrived outside of the abandoned building, well not so much outside of it. Sherlock had the cabbie stop a block away so that they wouldn't be noticed.

"Do you want me to wait for you?" the cabbie asked as John handed him a couple of wrinkled notes from his pocket.

"No," Sherlock said and headed to the shadows leaving John to apologize and lie by saying they had a friend would be round to pick them up in a little while. The cabbie wished them luck with whatever they were doing, assuming they were at the abandoned building to intervene with a friend's drug problem or something like that. For surely no one would go near that kind of building else wise.

"Sherlock," John hissed as he too took to the shadows seeing as the sun had set a while ago. They stalked along silently until they came to the side of the building in question. "Shouldn't we call Lestrade?" he whispered to his friend who was trying to peep in an boarded up window the best he could. "I don't even have my gun."

"I sent a text to Lestrade in the car. He won't get here soon enough. We need to get inside now," Sherlock whispered back. "And you don't need a gun, just punch him."

John caught the look in Sherlock's eyes when they passed a dim beam of light and wanted to shudder. It was eerie, seeing Sherlock so angry and determined at the same time. He can't say he hadn't seen that look before, but never with such an intensity that it made him want to take a step back. John dared anyone to take Amber away from Sherlock again. The man could be quite possessive if he wanted to be. That wasn't saying Amber was something to be possessed, just that Sherlock wasn't going to let anyone hurt her ever again.

They continued their sneaking around until they came to the back of the building. Sherlock grabbed the door handle, finding it unlocked. Carefully, the consulting detective slid open the door, both men stopping when the door made a terrible creaking sound as if it hadn't been used in a while.

After waiting several minutes to make sure no one had heard, Sherlock wrenched the door open, which solved the problem of the squeak. John slipped in behind Sherlock, really wishing at this point he had his gun, seeing as they didn't know who was inside and if they were armed.

They snuck through the building, careful to avoid anything that would make noise and give them away. Sherlock scanned the area for any sign of Amber while John looked for any sign of the kidnapper. They had just rounded a corner when Sherlock's phone made a vibrating noise. It was loud in the silent building which had both men on the alert.

They heard the sound of shuffling footsteps about twenty feet ahead in a different room. They stood stock still for a moment as they listened to the steps move out the opposite side of the room. Continuing to stay where they were for a few more moments, they finally did slip into the room. It was small and cramped. A very old and worn looking sofa sat pushed against one wall and across the room was a raggedy looking table which had seen better days. The room was littered with pizza boxes, Chinese takeaway containers, and an assortment of alcohol bottles.

Sherlock was just moving to the opposite side of the room, to the other door, when a figure came into view. It was a man, a little taller than John but shorter than Sherlock. His hair was cut short and was a sandy brown shade, matching the description of Scot from the few pictures Amber still had of him. He was built like a solider, possible a little more weight around the middle, but Sherlock knew just from his stance that the man knew how to fight.

Scot didn't bother to ask who they were or what the were doing there, he just lunged for Sherlock, John having been across the room near the table where all the bottles lay. For a moment John just watched as Sherlock was tackled to the ground by a man who had at least fifty pounds on the thinner of the two.

Sherlock grunted, having hit the ground hard, landing on his already injured arm. He wasn't exactly in fighting shape and he knew this. He pulled his injured arm out of the sling, preparing himself the best he could as he felt a blow to the ribs. He wheezed out in pain but managed to glance a blow of the man's temple sending in rolling to the side and grabbing his head. A blow to the temple was never a good thing. Sherlock knew that and this was why he had done it. A blow to the temple could kill a man if landed right. However that had not been Sherlock's intention.

Scot jumped to his feet just as Sherlock was pulling himself up. Sherlock managed to avoid the bull like maneuver Scot used in order to once more attempt to knock Sherlock over. Instead the other man stumbled when he didn't meet his target but managed to stay on his feet. The two of them now stood opposite each other, staring one another down.

Scot lunged for Sherlock once more, but he was prepared this time. John grabbed for one of the thick glass bottles, slamming it upside the man who had stumbled right passed Sherlock. The man hit the ground with a very satisfying thud.

000000000000000

The silence was deafening in the room as Amber and Bri sat there waiting for whatever was to come. Neither of them had spoken since they had cried. That had felt like hours ago, but Amber knew different. It hadn't been more than an hour at most since she had last been beaten.

In that time of silence she had managed to take stock of her injuries. She had a crack in her cheekbone, something that would heal quite well considering she had once had the same injury when she was seven and had fallen on a playground. Her hip and legs were badly bruised, again nothing that wouldn't heal properly with time. She knew that one of her brow bones had a small fracture and her eye itself was swollen. She was a tad bit worried about that. Her wrists, which were still bound, were red, raw, and bloody from where she had strained against the ropes. Those wounds would leave scars for a while if they weren't treated properly.

Her ribs, however, where what were causing her the most worry and pain at the moment. Every time she took a breath it felt like she was starting to drown. Like when she had been little and had forgotten that she couldn't breathe under water. She had taken in a breath full of water which had rattled around her lungs for weeks until it had finally been absorbed. It had not been a fun experience.

That was the feeling she had now on top of the feeling like her ribs were on fire. She knew, for a fact, that several of her ribs, both her false ribs and her true ones were broken on her left side where the brunt of the recent beating had taken place. She wasn't sure how torn her lung was, if it was punctured at all. It was completely possible that the liquid she felt in her lungs at the moment was blood she had inhaled from her mouth when she had taken a breath to scream. She couldn't be sure which was the case but she was hoping for the latter rather than the former.

She took one deep shuddering breath in an attempt to feel herself breathing in and out, but found the pressure on her chest so immense that she had to let the breath out before she could even finish it. She ended up coughing slightly before panting as she tried to get the adequate amount of air into her lungs in order to not black out.

When she could breath regularly, with only a relatively small amount of pain in her chest, she risked looking over at her sister. Bri had, in the midst of their crying fit, fallen into sleep. Amber had noticed the dark circles under her eyes, the ones that weren't caused by a fist to the face. She could tell that her sister was tired and needed sleep, the right kind of sleep in a good bed with a pile of blankets and a mountain of pillows. She needed some food and medical care, but it would appear that while she had been beaten pretty badly, she wasn't in as bad shape as Amber currently was in.

Lulling her head to the side in an attempt to dull the throbbing which seemed to radiate everywhere across her skull, Amber allowed herself to close her eyes. For a moment she disappeared, walking down the little street that was her memory. Sherlock did have his mind palace, a tedious place she had no doubt with all it's rooms and hidden caches. Her mind was just a little street with shoppes all up and down it, exactly like she had told Sherlock, John, and Lestrade the other day.

In her mind she found one shoppe in particular, her favorite memories based inside what a normal sane person would call a sweets shoppe. She shifted through her memories, bringing up some of one from when she had been younger and thought herself so in love with Scot. She smiled sadly at them because looking at them now, knowing what he was capable of, she couldn't help but see the falseness of it all. The fake happiness and the lies hidden behind kind smiles, blushes, and soft words. She didn't want to believe that there was a monster hidden in the man she had once married. But she knew there was and it hurt to realize that she had been part of what freed it in the end.

She shifted the memories, adding them to the shoppe on her mind street which was locked even to herself. It took some effort but eventually they slid away, replaced now with the images of Sherlock holding her in the park that day she had learned Bri was still alive. It wasn't the best memory in the world but it was the first time Sherlock had held her close. It was also the day where they had first kissed.

Her memories shifted from there, moving with the days and weeks, showing her a slide show of all her favorite moments with not just Sherlock, but all her new found friends. She saw the moments with Megan, just the two of them laughing, little moments alone with John where they just talked, and with Mrs. Hudson in her flat while drinking tea. Those little memories were the ones she saved, the ones she loved to be reminded of when she was feeling down or hurting. Those were the memories that were keeping her strong right now, even when she just wanted to close her eyes and let the pain take her away. Knowing that she had people who missed her and cared for her, those were why she was going to fight.

The sound of the door to the room being slammed open ripped Amber from the little street in her mind, slamming the door to the shoppe closed as her memories scattered in the wind. She whipped her head to Bri, who was now wide awake, shaking in fear as Scot bared down on her.

"No," Amber whispered hoarsely as she watched Scot reach for her sister. She watched in horror as the man yanked at the knots around Bri's wrists until the girl was free. For a second Amber thought that Bri was going to fight but when the girl rolled her grass green eyes in her direction she saw the resignation in their depths. This had happened before, multiple times, that she was sure of.

Fighting against her bonds once more, Amber tried to free herself. "Stop, take me not her. She doesn't deserve this! It's me you want to hurt," she begged but Scot paid her no mind as the man walked with her sister out the door. Bri, following meekly, sent an apologetic look back to her sister. "NO!" Amber screamed now, feeling the effort rip through her chest and lungs.

She ended up fighting to breath as she slumped back against the wall, her mind telling her to calm down because panicking wasn't helping any. Her body had other ideas as her eyes widened as she gasped for air. She shouldn't have screamed. She knew her lungs were already taxed with the broken rips digging into them. If the effort she had given to scream had caused the outer wall of her lung to move against one of her ribs she was screwed. It might have ripped a hole in her left lung, one large enough to cause her to have a hard time breathing.

It took several seconds of fighting for air, but eventually she was able to get some in before coughing violently, blood coming up with it. She winced at the feeling of being lightheaded as her eyes drooped once, then twice. She shook her head, sending that once dull throb into a full blown beating rhythm. She blinked several times, seeing little black dots start to form in her vision. She had never passed out slowly before but she had a suspicion that she was about to find out very soon if she didn't try something.

Closing her eyes, she attempted to calm her body. She started with her throbbing head and worked her way to her feet. Inch by inch, she calmed every muscle she could until she no longer felt like she was gasping like a fish out of water. She felt her breaths come a little more frequently and her vision was clear, well as clear as it could be given she didn't have her glasses, and those little black dots were gone.

Sighing to herself she leaned her head back against the wall, wheezing still with every intake and exhale of air. It was so bloody painful she really just wished she could go to sleep for a little bit. At least in sleep she would get some relief of some kind. She was tired, yes, but sleeping would only make things worse.

So she waited, her eyes glued to the door. It was possibly an hour later when she watched that door open and her older sister come limping back in followed by Scot. Her hair was wet from what she assumed was a shower, her body now covered in a new array of bruises.

Amber knew what had happened and she wanted to growl and snarl and yell at him for having raped her sister once more. If she yelled, however, she knew that she would make matters worse. Her lungs would once more feel like they were collapsing and he would beat her until she did collapse.

She watched as her sister was tied back up in the same ropes before Scot moved towards Amber. "Please, don't," Bri sighed out. "She doesn't deserve that kind of pain."

"I wouldn't touch her in that manner even if she paid me," Scot spat out. "No, I'm going to undo her ropes and see if she can fight me. Frail little bird that she is. Lord knows that what she wants to do." With that, he did undo her ropes, the ones on her ankles first and then her wrists.

She didn't fight at first, didn't even move as she watched him back up from her form. She blinked several times, knowing that she barely had the strength to get to her feet let alone fight him. "I won't fight you," she wheezed out as she moved to her feet.

He punched her in the solar plexus when she was standing. She doubled over, grabbing her abdomen as the pain coursed through her body. After a moment or two she was able to unfold herself enough that she could look him in the eyes. "Only a lesser man would strike an injured person," she hissed even as she heard the sound of someone sneaking around the building, just outside the boarded up window.

She was doing this on purpose. Anger Scot to get him distracted. If it was Sherlock or John skulking around outside the building than if she could get Scot to make a mistake, they could save her or at least Bri. With the pain she was feeling, the lightheadedness, the fullness in her lungs, she knew that she didn't have much time to fool around with. She had to try to keep herself going, to keep herself breathing. She had to. She wasn't going to lose because she had so much she still had to live for.

Feeling another blow to stomach she groaned loudly, falling now to her knees now. "I will," she coughed. "Not fight," she finished on a wheeze just as she felt a the beating begin fully. The kicks and punches, the pain radiating through her body, it was damn near unbearable. This was all because she refused to fight him. She would not stoop to his level and lay a finger on him as much as she wanted to. She had sworn to herself that she would hurt him, that she would attack him if he attacked her. Now here she sat, or rather laid, taking the beating because she was taking the moral high ground. It was a stupid move, she knew, but what more could she do? If she had been in her normal shape, not having already been beaten, she might have been able to fight back and win. In the shape she was actually in, well she couldn't do more than lay there and take it.

She took this beating in near silence as Bri was the one once more screaming for Scot to stop. Amber grunted and groaned until finally she could not longer do either. Those little black dots began to form on her vision as it became harder and harder to breath. She wished, for the first time in her life, that she could just close her eyes and never wake up.

Feeling the beating stop, she tried to take a shallow breath. It hurt. It felt like she was drowning. She knew that she was, in a way. She was drowning in her own blood, blood from the beating, from the punctured lung she now knew she now had.

She forced herself to try to sit up but she was too weak to even do that. Her arms gave out as she collapsed on to her side blinking as she watched the shoes belonging to Scot leaving the room, leaving her there to suffer, to die slowly and painfully in front of her older sister. She could hear Bri screaming somewhere in the room but it sounded so dim, so far away. So very far. She blinked her eyes slowly, her eyelids not wanting to open when they had finally closed. She forced them open, gasping as she fought for what little air she could take in.

"Sher...lock," she managed to whisper just as her eyes finally closed the final time and she slipped into the blackness.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions?(seriously, I mean it) Reviews are very much welcome!**

**A/N: So here we are, you and me, on the second to last chapter of this story. Gah, I cannot believe that there is only one more chapter left. It feels like just yesterday that I started this story and now it's almost over. To quote Doctor Who: This story's song is ending but the story will go on. God I am such a geek XD. Anyways I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and that you don't want to beat me to death because of the cliffhanger. I cried while writing the ending, I swear to you that I really did cry! **

**Anyways, I am serious about suggestions. I'm really stumped as to little cases to have the trio work on in the sequel. I have a few major mini cases but I need some smaller ones that you lot would like to see. They can be anything really. They can be silly or serious, they can be murder or theft. Seriously, anything. I'm open to all suggestions. **

**And the poll is open until wednesday, so if you haven't voted, please go do so now. Please and thank you! **

**This concluded this edition of Breaking the Barrier. Stay tuned for the final and please, in the meantime, do not hate me for how this chapter ended! Remember I cried. **

**Until next time my lovelies!**


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